


Strange Currencies

by Metalnoir668



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Discovery, M/M, Rites of Passage, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 334,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalnoir668/pseuds/Metalnoir668
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.

**Chapter 1**

 

“Teach me to dance?"

"Huh?" muttered Kurt sounding uncharacteristically unrefined, caught completely off-guard by David's statement which sounded more like a softly-asked question in the comfortable, lazy early-evening silence. Kurt shot an incredulous (though pleasantly incredulous) expression at the larger boy.

"Really. You and your friends always look like you're having a great time when you're all dancing. I'm not talking about the way you danced at Scandals: hell, I could probably do that, even though I might look kinda totally ill-at-ease doing it. I'm not talking about the way you dance with your friends from the glee club either: nothing so choreographed as that. I'm talking about the way people in formal attire traditionally dance on a dancefloor. I'd like you to teach me to dance like that." There was a short pause. David's face addressed Kurt's directly with a trace of a smile and slightly pleading eyes: "Please?"

Kurt was still somewhat dumbstruck but undeniably charmed by the request. "Umm, I...I _guess_ I could do that." David gave a pleased half-smile in response to Kurt's answer. Kurt grinned wide. Whenever somebody expressed an interest in an area of Kurt's expertise, he loved to teach; and, of course, Kurt was also a pushover for being asked a favor in a polite, sincere manner.

Since February, David hadn't exactly been unfailingly polite to Kurt, but he tried. Kurt had told him it wouldn't be simple or instant, and it wasn't; but Kurt was ready for the lapses in courtesy. Kurt told David that he'd help him in any capacity which he could, and Kurt took it upon himself to be an integral part of David's support structure. The two kept in contact almost daily, and Kurt felt he needed to impose himself upon David somewhat. He felt that David had been largely abandoned by those to whom he felt the closest; Kurt was determined to show David that he mattered and need not feel alone in his struggles. At the beginning, it was a few text messages throughout the day and an occasional visit. Both boys were busy, and David's situation was less defined. As the months progressed, contact became more consistent. The fulfillment of the majority of Kurt's school obligations resulted in him being increasingly unoccupied during the afternoon and evening hours; if David had trouble feeling comfortable in polite society at first, he felt safe within a small group of friends of which Kurt was increasingly ubiquitous.

This current Friday evening was fairly typical in that respect. It was mid-May and the setting sun was casting the basement gameroom of David's house in a warm, golden glow through a pair of small windows. Kurt had spoken with David that afternoon and told David that he had no plans for that evening. David responded that he almost never had plans and always appreciated Kurt's company. After that, it was only a matter of making plans, a few short hours, and a commute of twenty minutes, give-or-take, that Kurt arrived at David's house. David could be fairly quiet sometimes, particularly when indulging his habit of being introspective, but with Kurt, he found that he felt safe to open himself, to reveal the person he was sometimes afraid to let the world see. David found himself entertained to no end by Kurt's presence; and though he's respectful of Kurt's interests and views, he's not above the occasional blunt, stinging (sometimes vulgar) comment which simultaneously reminds Kurt that his own concerns often really are rather frivolous and that no amount of exposure to life's finer points could ever really completely civilize David Karofsky. Unlike the events of a year-and-a-half ago, though, Kurt found David's vulgar nature, when combined with David's newly-honest outlook, to be awkwardly endearing: he can't imagine even this humble, quieter David Karofsky to be completely devoid of that arrogant, cocky mouth at times.

There was no arrogance or cockiness in this latest request, though. It was a pure request, asked quietly but with determination.

* * *

 

**David returns home from the hospital: Sunday, February 26**

 

It was during an unseasonably warm spell in late February when David returned home from his 4-day stay at the hospital following his suicide attempt. It was home, but that couldn't remove some sense of apprehension he felt as he followed his father across the threshold into his house. His father had driven him home in an awkward near-silence for the half-hour commute. It was early-afternoon, and though the temperature was moderate, the sky was dirty-yellow and overcast; the ground was muddy and brown: warm as it might have been, it was still February in Ohio, oppressively so. At one point David asked how his mom was doing. His dad answered that she needed to get away for a while and is staying with her sister for the time being. Upon hearing that, David felt like he physically shrunk and a wave of nausea came over him in the reduction.

Once inside the Karofsky house, however, Paul Karofsky turned to face his son. David couldn't read his dad's face, but David's momentary concern completely dissolved when Paul stepped close and wrapped David in a firm embrace. "I'm so glad you're still here." Paul spoke distinctly into David's shoulder though his words were distorted through an obvious lump in his throat.

Though David had spent more time in the last four days in the throes of emotional bloodletting than he had during any other time in his entire eighteen years, he couldn't turn off the tears right now. Barely above a whisper, he spoke into his dad's shoulder, still locked in embrace. "I am so sorry for what I put you through." Paul turned his face and pressed his lips briefly to his son's forehead then returned to resting his face on David's shoulder; David squeezed his eyes tightly shut and hid his face further into his dad's shoulder, shuddering slightly. His father gripped him tighter upon feeling the tremor.

The two stood there in the entranceway for minutes, but they exchanged no more words. Each regained their composure before they unlocked their hold on each other. It's as if neither wanted to have the other actually see them shedding tears even though it was obvious that they were both doing just that. David had hidden his emotions from everyone for years, and it was obvious that the behavior was learned: like father like son.

David climbed the stairs to his attic bedroom. The door was closed. This isn't how he'd imagined it had been left. His memories weren't clear, but his bedroom looked like it had been sealed off: not like a place from which an occupant had been rushed off in an emergency situation. He wasn't sure he wanted to open the door. This room had been the place where the darkest thoughts and actions of his life had played out, and the feeling of how they wrenched at his heart was raw and fresh in his mind. Summoning from some source of strength, he twisted the doorknob and walked inside. It was silent. There were some signs of disarray, but the darkness he felt certain he would find there was either absent or hiding. It was just a quiet space.

He collected his laptop from where he had flung it in a moment of extreme sadness and rage. He wasn't ready to turn it on, but he put it back in its place on his desk. From the bags of belongings he brought home from the hospital, he found his cell phone. He hadn't had his cell phone on in days. He didn't know what messages, if any, awaited him there. From the same reserve of strength which gave him entry to his bedroom, he powered-up his phone. It hadn't been charged in days, but it turned on without incident.

Fourteen text messages.

Eight voicemail messages.

Instinctively, David thought to delete anything from a number he did not recognize. Before he could even get that far, he saw that the latest messages were from Kurt Hummel sent that morning:

Kurt: _Good Morning, David! I hope today finds you feeling well and in optimistic spirits._ 7:48 AM

Kurt: _You said you'd be returning home today, and I am sure that you are eager to be out of the hospital as soon as you can be._ 7:50 AM

Kurt: _I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know that you received my messages. You can text or call any time you like. I promise to respond as soon as I can._ 7:57 AM

David shot a text back to Kurt.

_Hey Kurt. Thanks for your messages. I just turned on my phone for the first time today. I got home from the hospital about a half hour ago._ 1:36 PM

The reply came almost immediately.

Kurt: _Welcome home, then! I can't text for long, but I can chat later if you'd like. I do want to know, though, how is everything there?_ 1:37 PM

David: It's _okay. It feels good to be home, but it's weird. Not bad, just weird. I would like to talk later if you're not too busy. Just let me know when you can talk or chat._ 1:39 PM

Kurt: _Will do._ 1:40 PM

David is warmed by the brief exchange of messages. He doesn't want to dwell on being alone in his bedroom more than necessary, though. He emptied the contents of his bags and was about to leave his bedroom to return downstairs when his phone signaled the arrival of another message.

Kurt: _Hey, if you get or received any messages from 567-233-2166, you might want to check them out._ 1:56 PM

David checked his messages, curiosity piqued. There were, in fact, three messages from this number: two from late in the previous night and one from earlier that day.

567-233-2166: _Hi Dave. I hope you get this message. It's Sean from your AP Calculus class._ 10:16 PM

David smiled subtly.

567-233-2166: _If this isn't too intrusive, I hope you're doing okay. Me and a couple of other people from school wanted to go see you when you were in the hospital, but we weren't sure if that would have been ok or not._ 10:19 PM

567-233-2166: _Hi again Dave. Once again, I hope you're ok. When you get the time, I'd enjoy chatting with you if you'd be cool with that._ 9:46 AM

David smiled. It was cryptic, but it was cryptic in a good way. _How did Sean get David's phone number; and what was Kurt's place in this?_

Whatever the case, touching base with Kurt and friendly words from one of the guys at Thurston lifted David's mood. He was looking forward to communicating with both Kurt and Sean later in the day. He was unaware of the calm smile that had taken over his face as he descended the stairs to see what, if anything, his dad had planned for the rest of the day.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.

**Chapter 2**

 

**The Day Kurt heard about David's suicide attempt: Wednesday, February 22**

Kurt had just heard about David Karofsky's attempt to take his own life a few hours earlier. To say that he was stricken with guilt was an understatement. At his first opportunity when he arrived home from school, he checked David's Facebook wall. It was like viewing a mass grave. Kurt could feel palpable nausea gnawing at his stomach as he read hateful comment after hateful comment. It was verbal cruelty in a way Kurt had never seen before. Compounding Kurt's guilt were the nine phone calls David had made to him in the last few days, calls which Kurt thoughtlessly ignored. When tears clouded his vision to the point that he could barely focus on his monitor, something caught his attention. Though Kurt was beginning to break down into an all-out, very loud sob, he saw a comment contrary to all of the hatred and malice.

Sean Twomey: _Why don't all you people just STFU? Leave the guy alone. He's never been anything but cool to me._

Kurt blinked the tears out of his eyes. He followed the stream of obviously fake names down the assassinating string of comments.

hatero98: _Sean Twomey: WTF? he your GF or something?_

bomber: _Haha! maybe the two of you could do a suicide pact thing the next time!_

Sean Twomey: _Sorry to be a buzz-kill to your flame-war, but I know Dave to be a good guy. All of you anonymous trolls probably never even met him._

bIgOt: _don't wanna meet that deviant. is there a way we could make all the pathetic fags so sad they'd commit mass suicide?_

Gretchen Dolce: _Sean: you're right. Dave's a nice guy and these comments were all made by cowards with nothing better to do._

Sean Twomey: _Yeah, nothing better to do so they feel they've gotta make the new kid at school feel like shit about himself for no good reason. Dave's alright. All you barely-literate idiots refusing to show your faces are clearly the fuck-ups here._

Kurt clicked on Sean's profile. Most of his information was hidden, but Kurt sent a friend request with a message:

_Hi. I'm a friend of David Karofsky's from his old school. I'd like to chat with you sometime if you'd be okay with that._

Kurt turned his attention elsewhere as the comments on David's Facebook wall just made him even sadder. He checked to see which of his friends were online, maybe hoping to chat with Mercedes, when an alert popped up. Sean had accepted his friend request. Then a chat box opened.

Sean Twomey: _hey, nice to meet you, kurt. it's sean. do you know how dave's doing?_

Kurt Hummel: _Thanks for friending me, Sean. No, I just heard about David today, and I feel terrible. I can't say we were ever really close friends, but we have a history of sorts._

Sean Twomey: _dave was never anything but nice to me. he seemed really nice to most people. to wish him dead is just sick._

Kurt Hummel: _I can't even imagine the depths to which those people sink. I can't imagine the way David must have felt when he saw those comments._

Sean Twomey: _hey, i'm going crosseyed from staring at this monitor for so long. can you call me? 5672332166_

Kurt Hummel: _Sure. Now or later? What time?_

Sean Twomey: _gimme about 10._

 

* * *

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 1**

Sean arrived at his first-period AP Calculus class several minutes before the late bell sounded. _This is it_ , he thought to himself: _the first class on the first day of my last year of high school._ He took a seat near the farthest corner from the door toward the back of the room and busied himself shuffling through his notebooks. Sean was in an optimistic mood. It was good to see the people he'd missed seeing over the summer. He had a couple of close friends whom he saw regularly over the summer, but the ones with which he associated in school, the ones who endured the sometimes adverse rite of passage with him, made the whole school-thing bearable. Meanwhile, as the room began to fill, clusters of students chatted quietly amongst themselves and seated themselves in obvious groups of friends.

"Is anybody sitting here?"

Sean looked up from his notebook. Standing above the desk next to him was a tall, thickly-built guy slipping out of his backpack. Sean made eye-contact with him: the boy's face wore a friendly expression belying his stereotypical tough-jock appearance. Sean answered the question: "hey, it's the first day of school: if it's empty, it's not taken." Sean was a little puzzled. There were vacant desks all over the room, but this guy, obviously a smart guy or he wouldn't be in this class, is sitting on the far side of the room removed from all of the people who were visibly more social.

"My name's Dave. I'm new here." Dave extended his right hand in Sean's direction as he slid into his seat.

"Hey, I'm Sean. Nice to meet you, Dave." Sean, still rather expressionless, shook Dave's hand.

"Likewise." Dave's pleasant expression widened into a genuine smile.

"Where are you from?"

"Actually, just from across town. I went to McKinley for the last three years."

"Really? Why did you transfer to Thurston?"

Dave's expression pained for a second. "Ahh...long story. There were a couple of people there who I continually butted heads with. I just wanted my senior year to be relatively free of melodrama." His smile returned.

"Is that why you decided to take a seat way over on the far side of the room next to the guy who just wants to blend into the wall?"

Dave chuckled. "Nah, everybody else in here looked a little too occupied with catching up on something with someone. I didn't want to intrude upon their undoubtedly important conversations about the color palette for this year's homecoming gowns or the cool stuff they did over the summer which really isn't nearly as cool as they'd have you believe."

Sean laughed aloud though quietly, shooting Dave a genuine smile, his initial anxieties about the big kid sitting next to him vanishing.

"Besides, dude, you have about the reddest hair I have ever seen. You're not going to be blending into any wall anytime soon."

Sean's expression sobered a bit. Was this new jock befriending him only to make him a target of ridicule at some later time?

Dave's face straightened a bit when he saw this reaction; his voice softened. "I didn't mean anything negative by that. It's actually cool. Everyone else is stuck on thinking they're individuals, but they're really all just copies of each other trying to one-up each other with their sameness."

"Yeah, and I just want to fade into the background, but it's like someone drew over me with a highlighter pen."

Both boys snickered.

Throughout the day, Sean could catch Dave in the hallways. Dave always greeted him when they passed, but Dave also seemed friendly to just about everyone. Whatever Dave's deal was, Sean was glad to have met him.

As the second day of school was ending, Sean was at his locker gathering up the items which he needed to take with him for the evening while talking to his friend Gretchen who had her bag already packed and slung over one one shoulder along with her leather motorcycle jacket. Dave was making his way toward the far end of the hall where the boys' locker room was located: he was on his way to football practice. Dave hailed a greeting as he walked briskly, "Hey, Sean! See you tomorrow in Calc!"

Sean waved and spoke an uncertain, "Yeah-have a good afternoon, Dave."

Gretchen spun around to see the person to which Sean was talking. At first she looked somewhat irritated that her conversation with Sean had been interrupted, but then she saw Dave with a friendly expression on his face and couldn't help but to smile back. Dave slowed to a halt at Sean's locker.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"Who's your friend, Sean?" the petite, curvy goth girl smiled coquettish.

This is Dave. He's new here. He's in a couple of my AP classes." Sean looked up at Dave. "Dave, this is Gretchen."

Dave gave her a wide smile, punctuated with a nod. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Gretchen." Momentarily at a loss, Dave was about to extend his hand to shake hers when she abruptly snaked her arm around his midsection and gave him in a brief one-armed hug. Dave's smiling mouth gaped and his eyes popped wide open in surprise.

"Shaking hands is so, like, _artificial_ , wouldn't you say? Nice to meet you as well, Dave." Gretchen's eyes met his with a hint of friendly dominance and a cute smile.

"Hey, so, we were just BS-ing about our first couple of days," Sean said, nearly stuttering. "Gretchen and I have some catching-up to do, but you're not really interrupting anything, Dave."

 "Ah, it's okay. I gotta run anyway. After-school stuff." Dave started walking away, though still facing the pair. "Catch you tomorrow, Sean. You too, maybe, Gretchen. Again, nice to meet you."

Dave spun and faced the direction in which he was headed. Gretchen just stood and watched Dave make his way down the hall. After about thirty seconds which felt like thirty minutes, Sean broke the silence: "Okay, Gretch, you can scrape your jaw up off of the nasty floor and quit drooling any hour now."

"Ha!" Gretchen backhanded Sean across the chest, just enough to sting. She spun around, eyes addressing Sean's directly, and intoning at a hushed volume, "He would be really cute if he wasn't so bohunk."

"It's plainly evident that you think so. This is north-eastern Ohio, though. If I wear an old-man cardigan to school, I'm considered edgy. Besides, big guys look ridiculous when they try to do the goth thing."

"Doesn't hafta be goth. Adam Lambert's kinda thick-built," offered Gretchen, eyes going off into the air focused on a thought.

"Ugh. Don't even. I don't wanna picture Dave in eyeliner and glitter."

"Yeah, dumb idea. I guess bohunk suits some guys just...fine."

"You don't believe that at all, Gretch. I can tell by the way you spat out the word 'fine' with such singularly precise venom."

 The next day at lunch found Sean and his group of friends discussing some weekend plans. Gretchen was sitting with him but busying herself with something in her sketchbook. Sean's bunch of friends, Gretchen excepted, were average, nerdy-type guys. They were tech-savvy gamers and science-club geeks. Sean stood out as having a little more fashion-sense than the rest of them: this was thanks to Gretchen who was his shopping buddy. Sean had light red hair worn a little longer than most guys, very fair skin, pale blue eyes, and strong, angular features. He was fairly tall at about five feet and ten inches, but he had a trim swimmer's build. Some of Sean's friends were nerdy to the point that Gretchen spent a fair amount of her time rolling her eyes and shaking her head between poking at her salad and scraping her pencil against pages of her sketchbook.

"Can I sit with you people? Is this seat taken?" All eyes looked up to see Dave standing behind a vacant seat.

"Hey, Dave." Sean answered, "if it's empty, it's yours," signaling a welcoming gesture with his hands.

Gretchen quickly moved her bag from the table as it was occupying the space where Dave would be placing his tray. She also hurriedly flipped her sketchbook to a clean page and resumed scraping.

"Thanks," Dave spoke to the group as he seated himself across the table from Gretchen and Sean. Gretchen looked up from her sketchbook and beamed a small smile at Dave. Dave returned with a crooked smile and nod of his own, then his eyes dropped to her sketchbook. In the few seconds since Dave sat down, she had scraped out an interesting, highly-worked abstract composition. Dave noticed that her fingertips were black with the soft graphite of the drawing pencil she was using, and there was a fallout area of black dust around the sketchbook.

"You're really attacking that paper, there, Gretchen." Dave's face crinkled in an interested expression. "You're not doing that halfway."

"Nah. The things I do halfway are things which I need to do. Art is something I _want_ to do, so I dive into it. It's like, I need to get an "A" on my English Lit term paper, so I do exactly what's required and nothing more; but, I'll be diving into my art projects with everything I can throw at them because that's what I love to do."

Dave smiled and nodded agreement.

Sean interrupted the exchange. "So, Dave, what did you think of that AP History project the teacher announced yesterday?"

"Ah, I dunno. I hope he gives us a little more information on it because it's very vague. Then again, I guess that's part of what the whole AP program is about for that whole history/social sciences curriculum."

"How so?"

"Well, all the college-level stuff we're doing now is getting us ready for the work we'll be expected to do in college. We're not going to be handed thesis topics; we're going to be coming up with our own. Probably better we get used to doing that now."

All eyes were on Dave, suddenly. "When I think about it, though, the project could potentially be really interesting. Rewarding. I mean, you could take the view that it's a drag because the teacher didn't point you in a specific direction; but it's also an opportunity to explore something in-depth that might be of specific interest to you."

"Okay, AP History guys: fill me in. I skipped out on that one so I could slack for at least part of my senior year," Gretchen inquired.

Sean explained, "The project is to be assembled from a combination of sources, but mainly interviews which we, the students, arrange and conduct with people who have something to say on the topic."

"And..."

"And that's it. That's all Mr. Williams gave us."

"Uh, yeah. That's pretty vague."

"I did a science fair project a few years ago," Dave jumped back in, "and it was much like this: find a topic, pose a question related to the topic, accumulate data on the topic based on hands-on experiments, document the procedure, and come to conclusions based upon the data. In this case, the interviews are the 'experiment' part. Otherwise, it's much the same."

The boys slowly nodded agreement, as if they'd just been handed an epiphany.

Gretchen grimaced: "Damn, now I wish I'd have taken that class, Dave; you just made it sound sexy or something."

The whole crowd laughed, and Dave blushed a little.

"So do you have any idea what you're gonna do for your project?" one of the other guys asked.

"I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete," Dave answered. "Since we don't need to turn in any topics or anything, I was planning to maybe interview some people and see what direction it starts taking."

Friday morning, Dave took his seat next to Sean in Calculus just a few seconds before the late bell sounded. They nodded at each other and exchanged a quick "hey" just before the class started.

"I was running late this morning," Dave said as the class ended. "I almost didn't make it before the bell."

"Hey," Sean answered, "some of us are meeting after school today to hang out if you're interested in joining us."

"Ah, sorry, I'll be busy after school today; but I'd be into that some other time. Football game." Dave shrugged.

"Oh, are you going to the game?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm playing. I kinda hafta be there."

Sean's expression fell. "Oh. Okay. See ya 'round, then." Sean exited the classroom well ahead of Dave.

Dave stood back perplexed. Did he say something wrong? He'd catch up to Sean later in the day to figure out what that exchange was all about.

At lunch that day, Dave sat with the rest of the football team. He waved and smiled a quick "hey" to Sean, Gretchen, and the rest of their crowd on the way to the table at the far end where the rest of the football team ritually sat. Sean and Gretchen and the rest politely waved back.

"I guess that's the end of Dave hanging with us," Sean mumbled as he nudged Gretchen.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that. Football season doesn't last all year; besides, Dave has some actual depth, though he's pretty quiet about that part of his personality. He'll eventually get tired of those troglodytes and..." Gretchen stopped short of completing her statement.

"...lower his standards enough to hang with us again?" Sean completed.

Dave made it to the fifth-period AP History class as early as he could. He was hoping to get a chance to continue his conversation with Sean from earlier in the day. Sean walked into the classroom well before the late bell. Dave approached him.

"Hey, man, did I bum you out earlier today?"

"Yeah, a little. No big deal."

"What? Because I'm on the football team?"

"Sounds lame, but, yeah."

"Okay, I enjoy playing football. How does that affect the way I relate to my friends?"

"Um, those guys tend to look down on my crowd. And just about any other crowd. That's all."

Dave looked away, a bit disgusted, as Sean sat down at his desk. "So, now I'm an entirely different person because I play football. And you didn't know that yesterday, and yesterday I was alright. And nothing has actually changed about me from then to now." Dave remained outwardly calm, but he was getting a little pissed-off inside. "Listen, Sean," Dave sat down at the vacant desk next to Sean's; Sean continued to gaze vacantly at his closed notebook on the desk in front of him. "I played that popularity game at my old school. It's part of the reason why I felt I had to leave. Part of me was too wrapped-up in giving a shit about what everyone else thought. I was a terrible person in a lot of ways. Part of my coming here was the idea that I could start with a clean slate. I could make friends with people I really want to be friends with."

"Well, that might not go over so well in this school."

"You think the alternative worked for me at my old school? I was so much a part of that ridiculous pecking-order that I never took the time to figure out who the fuck I actually was. Fuck that pecking-order bullshit. If you're not cool with me for something as..."

Dave was speaking in an aggressive-but-hushed volume when Sean cut him off: "I'm just not used to it, that's all." Sean looked at Dave's face. "You are a friendly guy. A _nice_ guy. A _nice_ guy with a very foul mouth, but you can also get a good laugh out of me. Not everyone can do that. And Gretchen thinks you're great."

Dave half-smiled. "So, we're cool? I'm allowed to sit with you guys at lunch on Monday if I want to?" There was a consciously exaggerated optimism in his voice and his eyes, but his sentiment was sincere.

Sean let out an exhausted-sounding laugh: "Dave, dude, you can sit wherever the fuck you want."

Dave smiled back genuinely and nodded. "Thank you, Sean." He then turned around to return to his regular seat as students continued to filter into the room.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.

**Chapter 3**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 2**

Monday morning found Dave in good spirits. He walked into his AP Calc class and took his seat next to Sean as always. "Hey, Sean. Have a good weekend?"

"Hey Dave," Sean smiled back. "Yeah, it was okay. Nothing special. Got together with some friends Saturday afternoon. Family stuff on Sunday. Hey, I heard you guys won Friday night. That's pretty cool."

"Yeah, thanks. That was about the high point of my weekend, but the rest of it was okay." Dave flashed Sean a small smile which had a hint of pride behind it. "Quiet weekend other than that. Did some school work, worked out, pretty typical for this time of year."

Lunch period found Dave hungrier than usual. He filled his tray with two cheeseburgers and a serving of rigatoni. He craned his neck and located the place where Sean and his friends were sitting. As he approached the table, he saw Sean and the other guys leaning toward each other, rapt in conversation while Gretchen, sitting to one side, stabbed and scraped at her sketchbook with a drawing pencil. Dave placed his tray on the table across from Gretchen and Sean. His presence seemed to cause the other guys' conversation to disperse.

"Oh, hey, Dave." Sean said somewhat nervous-sounding. Gretchen looked up from her drawing and gave Dave a flirty grin, raising one eyebrow as if waving with it.

"Hey, Gretchen. Hey, guys," Dave replied. "Don't let me interrupt your conversation."

"Ah, we weren't really talking about anything," Sean replied. The rest of the guys just hung their heads as if they'd just been busted by their parents looking at a dirty magazine.

"Oh, c'mon. You guys looked like you were hatching top-secret plans to take over the world."

Gretchen giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they tend to clam up if they fear disparaging comments from people outside their circle."

"Ah, whatever." Dave shook his head, appeared maybe slightly hurt actually, having been excluded from the conversation.

The guy sitting next to Sean changed the subject. "Hungry today, Dave?" he said, eyeing Dave's tray.

"Yes, actually, I am. Oh, I never did get your name."

"I'm Scott."

"Yeah, I never formally introduced all of my pals here," Sean said with traces of guilt and annoyance. Starting with the guy to his immediate left, Sean pointed as he gave names: "Scott, Justin, Howard, we usually call him 'Howie', and Spencer, we sometimes call him 'Spence'."

Dave smiled and stood to reach across the table to shake their hands and repeat their names individually as he did: "Scott...Justin...Howard...Spencer...nice to finally be introduced to all of you."

The guys shook Dave's hand while nodding and smiling, each verbalizing some form of greeting. Dave sat back down and grabbed one of the cheeseburgers from his tray. It seemed to disappear in seconds.

"Dude, you just, like, inhaled that burger," Sean observed.

Dave swallowed a gulp of water, shrugged, "Like I said, I am hungry today."

"Karofsky! Good game the other night!" Dave startled to the sound of one of his teammates patting his shoulder as he walked by.

"Yeah, Johnno, it was fun," Dave turned and replied with a wide grin before returning his gaze to his tray and hoisting his second cheeseburger.

Dave addressed the somewhat surprised expressions from the rest of the group. "The other team guys, they always call me 'Karofsky'. Sometimes I think that most of the people at my old school didn't know I even had a first name, I was just 'Karofsky' to everyone." Dave consumed the second burger much in the same way he dispensed with the first.

Gretchen observed and offered the conclusion, "You are _such_ a _man_."

"Well, I hope so," Dave smiled and tilted his head, looking at her wide-eyed. The rest of the group fell into quiet, unsure laughter at Dave's response. "Don't hate me because I'm direct, folks."

"Seriously, you probably keep a roll of duct tape in your locker," Gretchen opined. Dave laughed as he looked away and blushed a little. " _Rrraaawwwwrrr!_ " Gretchen punctuated her cat noise with a clawing gesture and a sexy grimace. Dave looked back down at his tray, still blushing and chuckling. Looking up, he met Gretchen's eyes with a shy grin on his face, hunching low to the table. Gretchen returned the blush and tilted her head.

"And when's the last time your fingers weren't permanently discolored with artwork fallout?" Dave composed himself and quietly addressed Gretchen. "It's kinda like what you said last week about not doing things halfway if you're into them."

"So, like, _eating_ is your hobby."

Dave chuckled, "Well, I happen to be very into my lunch right now."

Most of the other guys dispersed from the table to get to their next class early. Only Sean, David, and Gretchen remained. "So, no hints to the top-secret conversation I walked in on earlier?"

"That's bugging you, isn't it, Dave?" Gretchen responded. She flipped her sketchbook around so Dave could see her drawing right-side up. It was a highly-worked drawing, stylized, somewhat a caricature, of Howie dressed in a robe with arms raised, holding a scepter drawing flames and clouds of smoke all around him. In graffiti-style lettering was the word "wizard" down one side of the drawing. It was nice-looking fantasy artwork, and the likeness of Howard's face was striking and unmistakable. "There's a hint."

Dave looked up, puzzled: "Awesome drawing, but I don't get it."

Sean looked at Gretchen with somewhat pleading eyes hoping she wouldn't explain further. "Aw, geeze, Sean. You really think it's that big a deal?" She turned to Dave. "Sean and his friends spent Saturday afternoon playing D & D, and they were doing a post-game _recap_ earlier. He's afraid you'd rip on his geekiness if you knew."

Dave smiled slightly and shook his head, giving a puzzled look. "Everybody's a geek for something, Sean. A year ago, I could recite specific stats for at least thirty NFL players from memory, really specific stuff. That information is useful to no one. There's no difference between memorizing that kinda useless crap and knowing the specific times Spock smiled on the original Star Trek series: neither one is ever gonna make any difference in the grand scheme of things. At least you're interacting with your friends; and there are far worse things you could be doing with your time."

Sean looked up and nodded, smiling, looking relieved.

"Dude, the way you guys were acting, I'd have thought you were planning to build a bomb or something." Dave was intense, but he was also disarming in a really direct way.

All the while, Gretchen was stabbing and scraping at her sketchbook. She had started on another drawing. Dave dove into his plate of rigatoni while Sean finished his lunch as well. Sean paused as he finished eating, wiping his mouth on a napkin and dropping the crumpled napkin on his emptied tray, turning to address Dave directly. "Dave, you're alright," Sean said.

Dave looked up, slightly smug, and replied while nodding, "I'm glad you think so," delivered with a sarcastic edge and an exaggerated, wise-guy grin.

"You're better than alright. I just can't find the word for it so it won't sound so..."

The sentence ended incomplete, perhaps mercifully. Gretchen got up and came around to the other side of the table as Dave got up to return his empty tray. He grabbed Sean's spent lunch tray as well. When he returned to the table to grab his books for his next class, Gretchen was already leaving the cafeteria. She looked back and smiled in his direction, he returned a nod, a smile, and a wave. Sean and Dave both had their AP history class next, but Sean had to stop at his locker on the way. Dave stopped at the bathroom, mainly to wash the cheeseburger residue from his hands, not wanting to smell of ketchup for the rest of the day.

Dave arrived to his AP History class to find Sean already in his seat. He gave a greeting-nod in Sean's direction as other students were filling the desks. He reached into his bag and found the appropriate notebook for this class. As he placed it on the desk in front of him, he noticed that there had appeared a dark smear across the back of his hand. Puzzled, he looked back into the bag. There, slid between the notebooks, was a page torn from Gretchen's sketchbook. He carefully pulled it out and considered it. It was a head-and-shoulders portrait of himself, rendered in a loose-but-realistic style with no hint of parody or caricature. In the drawing, he was wearing a three-cornered hat, a medieval-looking jacket, and a white ruffle at his neck. She'd bestowed him with a flattering, noble expression. Under the portrait was the word "pirate" in stylized gothic lettering. He took a minute to let his surprise subside into appreciation. He was warmed by the gesture. He slipped the drawing between two clean notebook pages, not wanting the heavily-applied lead to smear further. He looked over his shoulder to see Sean, smiling at him from his desk, having witnessed the last few minute's discovery and possibly having been in on the gesture. Dave turned back to his notebook, smiling.

This was working. Upon embarking on his senior year in a new school, David had made up his mind to approach the situation as positively as possible. He wanted to be a consciously friendly person. The expressions of fear and hostility which greeted him so often at McKinley haunted him perhaps, but he'd earned all of it. This he wanted to be different. He would greet the new day and the people with a positive outlook every day.

In his last days at McKinley, he realized that he'd missed out on too many possible friendships with people who could have genuinely expanded his life experience. He'd finished his last days as a junior at McKinley laying as low as possible after the Junior Prom debacle; he'd have preferred that people forget he existed for those last few days. The thought that the prom itself was a missed opportunity haunted him too often, though he fought to get it out of his mind like mad because dwelling upon it was torture. The people at McKinley probably remembered him as the big troublemaker of his class. It had occurred to David, and he couldn't shake the idea, that if Kurt's election as Prom Queen was a cruel joke on Kurt then perhaps David was elected Prom King as the other side of that same cruel joke: let's elect the big asshole homophobe and make him dance with the raging flamer to an Abba song, no less. And they _applauded_ when Kurt was crowned; they _liked_ him; no, they _loved_ Kurt. They had the audacity to applaud the standard-bearer for something which shamed David mortally. And David ran. He was a fucking coward. He ran from the one person who had any genuine insight into what he was going through.

Maybe if David was a genuinely good person at his new school, maybe if people liked him, it wouldn't matter what secrets he was hiding. This was stuff he couldn't change. If people liked David, what difference would it make if he was gay? Holding that against him would make as much sense as hating someone for the color of their eyes.

As he left his last class that day, Dave stopped by Gretchen's locker as she was gathering the things she'd be taking from school for the evening. "Thank you for the incredible portrait." Dave was half-smiling, but appeared kind-of awed more than anything. "I could never be a pirate, though. Pirates are thieves. I'm definitely not a thief."

"You're welcome, and thanks for the compliment. Pirates also have no allegiances. I didn't know what else to call you. You're a football player who hangs out with nerds. And you're brain, in a covert kinda way. And you're probably a bunch of other things I haven't seen yet."

"Maybe I'm just diplomatic."

"That sounds so unsexy, and I wouldn't know how to depict that." She slammed her locker shut. "I'm going to meet Sean. Walk with me?"

"Sure, gotta get to football practice, but I'll swing by Sean's direction with you."

"Yeah, and that's another thing. None of us had any clue you were on the football team until last Friday. What's up with that?"

"C'mon. Sean totally came to incorrect conclusions about me when he found out. Tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

"Well, I can't say because we can't go back in time and try it the other way. You're probably right, and yeah, that would be very wrong of me."

"So, my stealth approach is justified, right?"

Gretchen nodded agreement.

"And no one thing about me defines who I am or what I'm all about, right? I mean, I play football, but that one thing doesn't lock me into a stereotype, right?"

Agreement again.

The pair approached Sean's locker to see Sean struggling with a mess of books. "Dude, your locker looks like a landfill, and we're only five days into the school year," Dave observed.

"Yeah, well, I know where everything is, at least." Sean stuffed a couple of books and pulled a particular notebook free from the mess. "Hey Dave, could you keep it under your hat? What my friends do over the weekend?"

"Sean, I can't see anyone really caring, but, then I can't foresee a situation where I'd even be inclined to bring it up. I won't even mention it in front of you and your friends if that makes you feel better. Anyone else?" Dave shrugged, "It's none of their business."

"Thanks," Sean smiled, relieved.

"D & D, though. Man, that's some heavy geekism." Dave opined.

"Hey, Karofsky!" One of the other football team guys was running past on this way to the locker room. He slowed a bit at the three of them and patted Dave on the shoulder; then he reached into Sean's locker, grabbing and dumping a handful of its contents onto the floor, leaving it to scatter in all directions and chuckling in the wake of the paper explosion.

"Aw, what the fuck, Randy?" Dave yelled in the player's direction. Sean just looked at the mess on the floor, stunned. Dave reached down and grabbed some of Sean's stuff, helping him pick it up from the floor.

"Thanks, Dave," Sean said quietly, shaking his head. Gretchen reached down and helped gather the mess.

"Hey, I really do hafta run. I'm really sorry about that," Dave pointed to the mess on the floor which had largely been gathered up at this point. "I will be having a word with that guy today."

"Thanks, and good luck with that," answered Sean.

"See you at lunch tomorrow?" Gretchen called out.

Dave spun and answered. "Ah, no. I'll be hanging elsewhere over lunch tomorrow, but I'm sure I'll see you sometime. Later."

"Randy!" Dave entered the locker room and ran up to Randy who was facing his gym locker, stopping inches from the side of Randy's face. "What the fuck was that?" Dave spat in a quiet tone somewhere between a growl and a hiss.

Randy laughed. "Calm down. What's the big deal?"

"I don't like it when people are assholes to my friends. Even if they weren't my friends, there's nothing cool about acting like that."

"They're just a couple of losers." Randy turned to face Dave and was struck by the intensity in Dave's face. He felt nearly burned by Dave's eyes. The grin left Randy's face. "Shit, Karofsky, I didn't mean anything by it. Just having fun."

"That's a pretty fucked-up idea of fun. Do not call my friends fucking losers; and do not let me hear about you pulling any lame stunts like that one again, or you and I will be doing more than just talking about it next time." Dave's gaze did not break. "If you understand what I've just said, maybe you and I can be friends."

Dave backed off but didn't take his eyes off of Randy until Randy broke away from Dave's stare and looked down into his locker. No one else was in the locker room to witness the exchange, and it might have played out differently had there been; but Randy just quietly said, "okay, cool with that." He exhaled loudly, and Dave dropped his gaze. "Sorry. It won't happen again."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, but we'll leave it at that." Dave patted Randy's shoulder and turned to walk to the far wall and his own gym locker.

David went home late that afternoon after football practice. He ate dinner with his parents as usual. When darkness was falling, he went up to his bedroom and retrieved his AP History notebook from his backpack. He found the drawing Gretchen had made earlier that day and carefully pulled it out from between the pages of the notebook. Sitting at his desk, he turned on his desk-lamp. Though the room was fairly dark as night fell, the lamp pooled light onto the drawing in his hands. He thought that the face in the drawing was handsome, even beautiful; and it stunned him a bit to think that it was a drawing of _himself_. So many times, David had felt angry about himself or what he was feeling; so many times he hated how he acted and the regrettable things he did which he couldn't undo. He grew to hate the face that looked back at him when he looked into the mirror; but this face was not one he could hate. The person who drew it obviously liked it enough to depict it with such care. As that thought crossed his mind, he became somehow awed by the image. Something about the way David saw himself changed a little that day.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.

**Chapter 4**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 3**

Coming as a complete surprise to Sean, Randy approached him during Tuesday's homeroom period and apologized for the previous day's incident. "Hey, man: sorry I'm such an ass sometimes." He continued, "guess it comes with the uniform."

"It's cool, and thanks," Sean replied. "My locker needed cleaned out anyway." Both boys laughed; Sean was more than a bit baffled, shaking his head as Randy walked away.

Sean told Dave about the apology in Calc class during their standard morning greeting. He said it in a hushed tone, not wanting to be overheard, not wanting to invite repercussions. Dave just smiled and nodded, quietly adding, "oh, yeah?" with a mock-surprised look on his face.

"So, where are you going to be over lunch?" Sean asked.

"Oh, I'll be in the cafeteria. Thing is, I ran into a guy I knew from a few years back: we were in a youth bowling league together. He's in another one of my classes. I was gonna hang with him and his friends over lunch today. Truthfully, since I really didn't know anyone here a week ago, it was my plan to kinda hang with different people every day, but I've been enjoying hanging with you and your friends, so that's where I've been most days. I'll probably continue to hang with the rest of the team on game days: it's good for camaraderie before a game."

Sean nodded and smiled.

Wednesday saw Gretchen and Howie plotting to make a mall excursion for that evening, and they were firming-up their plans over lunch. "You actually discuss such minutiae to make a trip to the mall?" Dave inquired.

"Well, yeah, to make sure our schedules work and everything, and make sure we have a ride there," Howie replied. "Gretchen's gonna help me pick out some clothes: she's our fashion consultant as we're all pretty handicapped in that respect." Howie was probably the nerdiest-looking guy of the bunch. He was tall and fairly thin, but he had a bottom-heavy shape to his body: he had to be sure to select his wardrobe with care so as to avoid becoming someone with a terminal, premature case of plumbers' butt. His medium-brown hair was typically unkempt, and regardless of how often he washed it, his hair always appeared either greasy or frizzy. He wore glasses which never seemed to rest upon his face quite right.

"I couldn't get one of my parents' cars until after six; Howie wouldn't be out until even later," Gretchen chimed.

"I'm done with football practice at 4:30," Dave offered. "I could ride you if you wanna wait around that long, but I have a truck. One of you would hafta sit on the other's lap. Unless, of course, one of you wanted to ride in the back," Dave added, not serious in the least.

"I'm tiny," Gretchen said. "I'm used to sitting on laps to mooch rides; Howie will forget I'm even there."

"Yeah, right, hottest action his lap will _ever_ see," Sean razzed.

"Eeeyyoow!" Gretchen voiced her displeasure at the thought; everyone else laughed while Howie stared silent daggers into Sean. Dave just smirked and silently chuckled, shaking his head.

"If this is a definite thing, I'll call my parents and let them know that I won't be home for dinner," Dave said. "We could grab dinner at the mall if you two want to do that."

"That's good on my end," Gretchen answered. "The earlier we get out, the better. Waiting for one of my parents' cars would get me out later than I'd like."

"Works for me too," Howie added. "It's really great of you to offer, Dave."

"So, is there some reason that you require an image overhaul, Howie?" Dave asked.

"I did some research work over the summer for which I'm being awarded a scholarship grant," Howie explained. "I'll be accepting the award, and I'll be giving a speech."

"Whoa, congratulations, Howie!" Dave beamed, rising from his seat and extending his right hand to give Howie a congratulatory handshake.

"Thank you!" Howie shook Dave's hand firmly and mock-bowed as Gretchen, Sean, Scott, Justin, and Spence clapped.

"Maybe we'll do a wardrobe-makeover for Dave too," Gretchen teased.

"Nah, I'm fine with the way I dress, Gretchen." Dave shook his head and held up his hands as if to say the conversation had gone far enough.

Sean chimed in: "I believe the word Gretchen used when she first saw you was 'bohunk'?" The statement inflected like a question at the end.

"Maybe that's accurate, and maybe I'm okay with it as long as she didn't mean anything too derogatory or personal by it," Dave answered to Sean but looked at Gretchen.

Gretchen blushed a bit, busted, and said, "In Dave's defense, he can rock a pair of cargo pants in a way I didn't think possible."

The rest of the bunch whooped and chuckled at that. Gretchen's eyes addressed Dave's directly with an expression which seemed to say, 'so there!' Dave tilted his head to one side and looked right back at her with a smug, sly grin.

"So you're saying that, although cargo pants, in your opinion, aren't sexy, I can somehow make 'em work?" Dave pressed Gretchen.

Gretchen answered fearlessly, "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

The rest of the bunch gave a collective "ooooohhh!" at the last comment. Dave grinned wide, mouth gaping slightly, and blushed intensely.

"Okay, I think we'll leave it at that for now," Dave mumbled just loudly enough for the group to hear.

There were enough after-school activities going on that day that a good part of the school was still populated well-after classes ended for the day, and Gretchen and Howie were able to wait in the school library until Dave finished with football practice. Football practice ended earlier than usual that day, so Dave met Gretchen and Howie at the main entrance to walk them to his truck.

The ride to the mall was a little chatty, but largely uneventful. Once at the mall, Dave declined to accompany them on their clothing excursion, instructing them to text him where and when to meet once they have completed their shopping. Much to Dave's surprise, they were finished before six o’clock. The three of them bought food at the Asian restaurant in the food court and sat down to eat. Though it was dinner time, the food court wasn't terribly crowded: the three were able to eat in relative seclusion. Perhaps their energy level was waning after a day of school; perhaps they just didn't feel much like chatting over dinner. They were back in the truck and on the way home by six-thirty.

Howie was giving Dave directions to his house as needed. It was a fairly direct route and not very far out of Dave's way to get home himself. Gretchen lived a little farther, but in the same general area. The radio was on a very low volume: just enough to know it was on but not loud enough to identify any of the music. Gretchen asked Dave to turn up the radio as there wasn't much conversation happening. Dave obliged. The radio was on a typical hard rock/classic rock station.

"What kinda music do you like, Dave?" Gretchen spoke over the music.

"Ah...I guess I like some of everything," Dave replied. "I can't say it's something I think about much. When I really like something, I'll get it on my iPod. Every once in a while, I'll hear a song which really blows me away. And there's some music I can't stand at all."

"Liiiiiiiike...?" Gretchen teased.

"Uh...show-tuney-kinda stuff. And thumping dance music. I can't really say I hate it, but I just wanna be anywhere else when I hear that kinda stuff. I like a good party-tune if I'm in the right place at the right time. What do you like, Gretchen?"

"I like a little of everything. My mom and dad were in college in the 80s, and they listened to this kinda alternative pop stuff which would be similar to what would be called 'indie' music today: I like a lot of that stuff. But, then, I like regular dancy pop music, indie music, modern rock: I'm pretty-much cool with everything. I have an uncle who plays cello in the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra; through him, I found that I really dig a lot of classical music. Heck, I even like what we're listening to now," Gretchen said with a smirk.

"Hey! Are you ripping my classic-rock vibe?" Dave said through a chuckle; Howie, largely silent through most of the ride, snickered as well.

"Well, admittedly, I don't know much about this kind of music; but it does play well with your bohunk persona," Gretchen needled Dave playfully.

Dave wasn't buying, though. "I am what I am. Either accept it or I'll take my sexy cargo pants elsewhere." He averted his eyes from the road for a fleeting moment to see Gretchen's icy blue eyes staring at him, playfully defiant. "Besides, music is one of those things I can't get too wrapped up in. I can't see arguing about it like some people do." Dave's attention broke suddenly, "Oh, man, I love this tune!" He reached down and cranked the volume knob.

A blistering, distorted guitar chugged out a mid-tempo rock riff while drums thudded and cymbals rang nearly shrill and a singer whooped out some crazy-sounding party-yells. Gretchen gave a stunned smile; Howie appeared nearly annoyed, wanting to cover his ears from the volume. Dave shouted along with the chorus of the song:

_thought you'd never miss me 'til I got a fat-city address_  
 _non-stop talker, what a rocker_  
 _blue-eyed murder in a size-five dress_  
 _Change-nothin' stays the same_  
 _Unchained-yeah-yeah, hit the ground runnin'  
_ _Change..._

Dave looked over at Gretchen, smiling, Gretchen was laughing back at him, more appreciating his cutting loose than mocking him. Dave turned the volume back down to a normal level as the song ended, and the look of near-pain subsided from Howie's face.

"Hey, is that you?" Dave asked Gretchen with a silly smirk on his face, "like in the song: ' _blue-eyed murder in a size-five dress_?'"

"HA!" Gretchen laughed and put a hand up to Dave's mouth as if to say 'shut up!'. "I guess it could be, but you don't know me well enough to make that call."

Dave pulled his truck to the curb in front of Howie's house. Gretchen and Howie got out of the passenger seat, and Howie retrieved his bags from the space behind the seat. He thanked Dave for driving and walked up to his house as Gretchen returned to the passenger seat. Dave remained parked until he saw Howie let himself into the house, then he pulled away from the house and continued down the street.

Gretchen's house was less than five minutes away, though a little deeper into a suburban maze of streets. He pulled up in front of her house. It was a fairly typical, well-kept suburban house with what appeared to be an enclosed porch off to one side. The windows of the enclosed porch were filled with various, different-sized objects-shapes he could barely make out in the fading daylight.

"What's that over there?" Dave asked, pointing to the enclosed porch.

"That's my mom's studio. She's an artist, mostly pottery and sculpture," Gretchen replied.

"Aahhh, runs in the family, I see," Dave looked at her with a half-smile and nodded.

"Yeah, dad's pretty artistic too in his spare time, but he has a 'regular' job. Mom makes artwork and teaches art classes at the community college."

Dave nodded and shut off the engine of his truck.

"I'd invite you in to say hello to my parents, but they'd probably freak out, saying that the house is a mess or something," Gretchen said.

Dave laughed. "It's cool. I totally understand. Parent thing."

Gretchen sat back in her seat, addressed Dave's eyes directly, and spoke with a scheming smile: "take me to the Homecoming Dance."

Dave's face sobered, Gretchen's comment seeming to come out of nowhere. "What?"

"You heard me. I've never been to one, and I wanna go. C'mon, it'll be fun."

"I wasn't even going to go myself," Dave stated.

"Oh, geeze, you're on the football team, you almost hafta be there."

"Ahhh, no, I don't _hafta_ be there," Dave subtly mocked Gretchen's words.

"You'll be _expected_ to be there."

"There are probably many things which people expect me to do which I haven't and don't plan to do. Besides, I didn't figure you for the high-school-social type."

Gretchen considered before responding. "Maybe I just wanna leave some impression on these people."

"Well, I won't be leaving any impression. I'm just as bohunk as the rest of them, and I'm fine with that.

With your edgy fashion-sense, we'd be the most incongruous couple there."

"Nothing wrong with that. And not necessarily. I'm sure I could find an image which suits your personality and complements the look I'm going for at the same time."

Dave groaned: "Gawd, does this mean you'll be dragging me clothes-shopping sometime soon? _If_ I agreed to go?" Dave added the last part hastily to what came out sounding too much like he was agreeing to the proposition.

"That, too, will be fun. And you'll never know until you try it." Gretchen gathered her purse and book bag, preparing to exit Dave's pickup truck and go into her house. "Just think about it, but don't think too long. We only have a couple of weeks to find something awesome for you to wear."

Dave was in his Calc class early the next day, waiting for Sean to arrive. "Hey, Sean," Dave greeted with a hint of nervousness upon Sean's arrival.

"Hi, Dave. What's going on? How was your mall excursion with Howie and Gretch?"

"Uh, it was okay. Nothing too eventful." Dave hesitated before continuing. "Can I talk with you later? There's kinda some stuff I wanna ask you."

"Sure, Dave. Are you going to sit with us at lunch?" Sean asked.

"Uh, yeah, but I wanna talk to you without Gretchen being around."

"Uh...okay. I could hang out after school for a while," Sean said with a hint of concern.

"That works, but I have football practice. How long could you hang?"

"I was getting a ride home with Scott. I wouldn't want him to wait for me that long."

"Oh, I could give you a ride home, no problem; but it wouldn't be until around 4:30," Dave offered.

Dave sat with Sean, Gretchen, and their friends at lunch that day, but he was noticeably quieter than usual. He did bring his appetite with him, though, eating an enormous lunch.

After football practice, Dave met Sean at the main entrance, as he had met Howie and Gretchen the previous day, and they walked out to Dave's truck. Dave seemed palpably nervous as he started the truck and began to pull out onto the road.

"Um, so, you and Gretchen are pretty-good friends, right?" Dave began.

"Yeah, Gretchen is probably my best friend at the school."

"She's really pretty. She's hotter than most of the popular girls, and she seems really smart. Why doesn't she have a boyfriend?"

Sean kinda snickered. "She scares people."

"Huh?" Dave exhaled, confused.

Sean turned more toward Dave, facing him from the passenger seat. "Yeah. It's totally weird, double-edged kinda stuff. She tends to freak the guys out because she doesn't hold back for the sake of being polite. They usually get frustrated after one conversation. There was a senior on the hockey team who was dating her for a while last year when she was a junior. Word was, all of the popular girls stopped talking to him because he was dating the 'weird chick', but at the same time, Gretchen represented a 'threat' to their 'hierarchy' because she couldn't be bothered with their 'trendy', popularity concerns," Sean flashing finger-quotes appropriately. "His friends, under pressure from the cheerleaders and stuff kinda gave him the cold-shoulder over the whole thing, even though any one of them would have jumped at the opportunity to get into Gretchen's pants. It was a no-win for everyone involved until it all ended unceremoniously. One day they were an item; the next day it was like they never knew each other."

A short silence, then Sean asked: "Lemme guess, you like her."

"Uh, buh...," Dave stammered before he collected an answer, considering that he didn't want to offend her good friend. "She's awesome, and she's really pretty. I really wanted to stay out of the melodramatics this year. That's one of the big reasons why I transferred schools. I like her, but not anything beyond what we have going on already. I wanna keep it friendly and nothing more."

"Yeah, I gotcha." Sean paused again before asking, "so, why bring it up to me just now?"

"She asked me to take her to the Homecoming Dance."

"Wow." Sean's expression perked to a small-but-genuine surprise at the admission. "I haven't talked to her that much about you, but I can tell that she respects the conversational rapport the two of you have. That's obvious. She can rip you a little, and it doesn't bother you; and you just throw it right back at her, and she digs that."

More silence.

"Hey, it's just a dance." Sean finally breaks the silence. "If you decide to go, you might have a really great time. If not, I'm sure Gretch isn't gonna lose sleep over it-she's way too realistic for that. It's probably just some plot to turn heads and show all of the guys what they've been missing for the last two years by not paying attention to her; and she finally found a guy who she considers her equal on some level. Despite her seeming indifference to the whole thing, Gretchen is well-aware of how attractive she is."

Dave smirked. "Are you saying that she thinks _I'm_ hot?"

"I can tell that she finds you easy to look at. She respects your intelligence also. She's not so shallow as to be drawn to somebody just for their looks, and she's not going to disown you if you don't take her to the dance. She may really want to go, but, in the end, I'm sure it's not really that important to her. She's way too grounded to be having prince-charming fantasies."

 

* * *

 

**The day after David's suicide attempt; Wednesday February 22**

**Kurt calls Sean**

"Hello"

"Hi. This is Kurt. Sean?"

"Yeah, I'm Sean. Nice to meet you."

Kurt exhaled a level of exhaustion and futility with the situation. "Thanks for letting me call. I was looking at those comments on David's Facebook, and I nearly started to cry."

"It's tough. Those people are so fucking wrong."

Kurt exhaled melodramatically again. "So, how do you know David?"

"We go to the same school. We have a few classes together."

"What was going on at that school? Is that where this all started?"

"Um, yeah." Sean's words were hesitant, as if he were personally ashamed of others' deeds. "There were rumors going around for most of last week; then yesterday, something just reached critical mass or something. I saw him at school in the morning, then he disappeared. Didn't see him at lunch, wasn't in the later classes. I guess by the time I saw all of those comments on his Facebook, it was too late. Not sure it would have made a difference if I could have contacted him earlier, but I'd hope it would have. I sent him several messages on Facebook. He probably never saw them. I was probably too late."

"How exactly did this start?"

"Well, Nick, this bigshot on the football team, said that he saw Dave leaving a restaurant in the aftermath of what appeared to be a Valentine's Day date gone-wrong with another guy."

Kurt gasped loudly.

"People were buzzing about Dave's behavior for weeks before that, but it really hit the fan when that story started going around the day after Valentine's Day."

Kurt audibly started to cry.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I saw the whole thing happen on Valentine's Day. I was there. I was that date-gone-wrong."

Silence on the other end of the phone.

"I tried to get him to stay, to talk out what he was feeling, but he left looking very bitter. Then that guy stopped him. I tried to defuse the situation, to cover for David."

"You mean, it's true?" a reply finally came, slowly spoken.

"Yes, it happened."

Once again, a slow response: "Then, Dave _is_ gay?"

Silence. Kurt was caught in an ethical dilemma. Either Sean was incredibly naive or didn't want to believe the evidence before him; and his implied attitude on the matter was irritating to Kurt. It took a few seconds for Kurt to remember that David had already been outed, and that confirming this fact to Sean wasn't any ethical crime. "Yes, David is gay."

"Oh..." the single word held-out for a few seconds.

Kurt responded, making no secret of his irritation this time: "Is there something _wrong_ with that?"

A quick response: "Oh, no! Dave didn't deserve what happened." Sean was obviously trying to phrase his response carefully. "It's just kinda disappointing."

Sean regretted his word choice the second he said it. Kurt ripped into him.

"What do you mean by _that_?"

Sean, trying for damage-control, not succeeding. "Um, he was such a nice guy and friendly to everyone. It was kinda nice to think that me and my group of nerdy friends were also cool with someone who was, like, on the football team and, well, a normal guy."

Verbal suicide. Kurt seethed for a moment then exploded: "David _is_ normal! Gay _is_ normal for David! Trying to be straight would have been _abnormal_ for him!"

"Uh, I-I know that. That didn't come out right. I am sorry, and I didn't mean that."

"It's _exactly_ what you said!" Kurt yelled into the phone. "I think this conversation is over," Kurt growled.

"Please, Kurt, please talk to me for a little longer. If I piss you off again, you have every right to hang up on me. I'm freaked out and I'm not thinking right. This guy that I considered a good friend for a while, who was obviously struggling with something, tried to kill himself, and I feel terrible that I couldn't help him. And I feel terrible that I'm fucking up this conversation so badly, but part of the reason is that I'm fucked-up over this thing."

A long period of silence. So long that Sean thought Kurt might have hung up.

"Tell me about your friendship with David?" Kurt asked, now composed, quietly and politely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced is Van Halen's 1981 track "Unchained". I don't own this track; I hope that my use of it doesn't bother the people who do own it. I always imagined Dave Karofsky listening to harder music whether it be hard classic-rock, music fringing on punk, modern hard-rock, or nu-metal. I don't see him as an emo/indie or straight-up pop fan as some other writers have envisioned him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.
> 
> Approximate words this chapter: 4,350

**Chapter 5**

 

**The day after David's suicide attempt: Wednesday February 2**

**Kurt's phone conversation with Sean continues.**

There was a moment of relieved silence on Sean's end of the conversation. "Dave and I met the first day of school back in the fall. It was the first class of the day. He just walked up to me and introduced himself. Unlike most guys who were on the football team, and I didn't even know he was on the football team at the time, he was really friendly. I didn't know how to react at first. I thought for certain that once he settled in with a crowd of similar guys, he'd quit being friendly to me and my friends, but that didn't happen. He sat with us at lunch sometimes, in fact, he usually sat with us at lunch."

Kurt considered what Sean said. "What kind of people were you and your friends?"

"We're a bunch of math and science nerds: fashion-challenged and definitely not 'cool kids'. Except Gretchen. Gretchen is an artsy chick with a gothy-bent to her image. Dave and Gretchen hit it off really well for a while. She's kinda 'hyper-cool'. So cool that the other 'regular' people think she's scary."

"What exactly do you mean when you said that David was nice to your crowd?" Kurt asked.

"Shit, Dave was nice to everyone. He told me once that he was a pretty terrible person when he was going to McKinley. _Terrible person_ : those were his words exactly. He said that he wasn't going to be that at Thurston. Something about having the opportunity to start with a 'clean slate', his words, again. True to that, Dave was friendly to everyone. He was the kinda person, and this is totally rare, who could make you feel good about yourself despite how anyone else made you feel. He'd stick up for people who were put-upon; and he almost kinda changed the climate of the school for a while."

Kurt interjected, "So where were all these people who supposedly liked him when he was getting verbally trashed and outed? You yourself said that you understood what was happening too late to do anything about it."

"Uhhh," Sean's tone betrayed disappointment in himself. "Dave kinda dropped out of all social circles. It was before Thanksgiving, but it got really bad around Christmas and stayed bad. He'd still say 'hello' in the mornings and be fairly friendly, but he sat by himself at lunch if he made it to lunch at all. It was like he just wasn't interested in hanging around with anyone. He showed up for school, did the work, and was pleasant to everyone; but he didn't wanna get too close to anyone, and he'd clam-up as soon as anyone tried to be concerned about him. He wasn't mean or angry about it, just, like, unapproachable."

"Wow." Kurt absorbed the information.

Sean continued. "We tried to figure out what was going on with him, but he just didn't respond. For a short while, he and Gretchen got to be close friends; then, one day, it just seemed to have ended. That's when he made himself scarce. Gretchen seemed to take the whole thing pretty badly but felt she couldn't do anything. A couple of times, he came into school very obviously lacking sleep, looking like he's been up half the night, and smelling like a combination of brewery and ashtray. Then one day even that ended. He was kinda like the old Dave again: kinda happy, positive outlook; but he still didn't let anyone get too close. That was a couple of weeks ago."

Silence. Breathing.

Sean spoke up. "You said that you and Dave had, in your words, a 'history of sorts'?"

Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to talk about his history with David; ultimately, though, he gave a short version. "It's like this, Sean: David and I both went to McKinley. David tormented me to the point that I had to transfer schools to be in a safe environment. He threatened to kill me at one point. David's a big, imposing guy. I have no doubt that it's great if he's on your side; but, take it from me because I lived it, it's terrifying if he's got something against you."

Sean was literally sickened by that statement. "Um, so, I don't understand. He hated you, and then you were on a Valentine's Day date together, like, a year later?"

"To say that David had a few things to work out with himself is accurate. I, more than anyone probably, was aware of these things; I had some insight into what was going on with him. Maybe I could have handled it better than I did, but, given our past, I found it really hard to be objective. As far as I was concerned, we made our peace, and I can only assume he felt the same way. In the end, though, I can't say I did anything wrong; at the same time, I feel guilty, even responsible."

"How can you feel responsible for what happened, Kurt?"

"Between Valentine's Day and yesterday, David called me nine times. I thoughtlessly ignored all of those calls."

"Well, it doesn't sound like you were exactly friends or whatever."

"That doesn't help. It goes without saying that, if I knew that he was in some desperate state, I would have returned his calls," Kurt spoke coherently but on the edge of sobbing. "I don't know what I thought he wanted or why he was calling me. If I'd have known that he needed someone to talk to, I'd have returned his calls in a heartbeat."

Sean shifted the subject a little. "I'd like to go to see him. I'm sure Gretchen would also. I don't know if he'd be okay with that. I mean, he distanced himself from all of us. We really tried to get him to open up again, but it wasn't working."

"I plan on going to see him later this week," Kurt spoke. "I am a little stressed about a show-choir event I'm involved with on the weekend, and I'm stressed about seeing David. I don't know how he'll react to seeing me, but I feel I need to go see him. I probably won't get there until Saturday afternoon."

"Hey, if you go to see him, could you let me know how he's doing?" Sean asked.

"Yes, I'll definitely let you know. If you decide to go see him, and you say anything to him about you being disappointed by his being gay or verbalize anything that suggests that he's somehow not normal, you do realize that I will hunt you down and kill you, right, Sean?"

Sean exhaled loudly. "I never should have said those things before. I know what I said isn't right. It came out all wrong, and it's nothing I believe. Truly. I do have a tendency to say things badly. I will do my best to not make those mistakes when I talk to him, and I won't talk to him until I hear from you. Hopefully, you could tell me whether or not it would be a good idea."

"I appreciate what you've told me, Sean, but I need to get going."

"Thanks for contacting me and calling, Kurt. Hopefully, next time we talk, you'll have some good news about Dave's situation."

"I hope so also."

 

* * *

  

**Sunday February 26, the Karofsky house**

**The evening after David returned home from the hospital**

"I was going to call our favorite pizza place for dinner," Paul said to David as David descended the steps from his bedroom. "I was gonna get us pizza or subs. What are you in the mood for?"

"Uh, my throat is still pretty tender. If you could get some pasta or lasagna, that would be better for me," David replied. "Certainly, if you had your heart set on one of those killer Italian subs, get one for yourself, by all means, but, as much as I'd love one, I think I need to take a raincheck. I'm looking forward to enjoying one with you in the near future, though."

Paul rankled a bit that he didn't consider his son's condition. He nodded, "No problem; pasta sounds fine to me."

"We need to find out how we can go about making sure you finish school and graduate this spring," Paul changed the subject. "I'll be taking tomorrow off of work so I can make some phone calls and examine the options we have."

"I can't go back to Thurston, Dad." David just cast his gaze to the floor but stood solid.

Paul nodded. "I know. That's why this might be a bit of a project." There was a tense moment: Paul looking sideways at David, David lifting his gaze but not the tilt of his head from facing down. Paul reached out and embraced David, much like he did a few hours earlier upon their entrance into their home. The tension melted. Paul let out a loud breath and sat down on the living room couch. David sat beside him.

"Y'know, David, I don't want to dwell on this..."

"That makes two of us, Dad."

"Please, just listen to me. I know it's painful. I really do need to tell you that I took this really hard, probably in ways you didn't consider."

David, silent, nodded.

"I feel terrible that you didn't feel that you could come to me when this was happening, that you didn't feel comfortable coming to me. I feel I somehow failed you for that."

David shook his head upon hearing this. "No, Dad, please don't take it that way. I didn't want to disappoint you. I was caving, and I was weak. You brought me back, and I'm glad you did. I am _so_ glad you were there to do that."

"I can't say how I would have reacted if I'd have known how bad it had become for you, but I can't imagine the pain I would have felt if you died, David."

"Yeah, well, consider how Mom reacted. And I am sorry for that. There aren't words I know that I can use to describe how I feel about Mom's reaction. It's part anger, it's part disappointment, disappointment in her _and_ myself, it's part the heaviest sadness I've ever felt; but more than anything, I feel that _she_ failed me. Not you, Dad. Not you at all," David's words had started out strong, almost defiant; but they ended shaky and nearly tearful.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Paul called in the order to have dinner delivered. After ending the call, Paul looked at David and spoke. "There might be some times in the next few days when I just need to hold you for a while. Like earlier. I hope that's okay with you."

David nodded and smiled slightly. "No problem. I might require the same of you, Dad."

Dinner was relaxed and pleasant, if quiet. David said that he had a couple of friends he wanted to call, so he made his way back up to his bedroom once he helped his father clear the table and put the leftovers away. His bedroom was dark and quiet, but, as before, it was just a space filled with inanimate objects. The events of the previous week weren't haunting him here. He retrieved his cell phone from the charger. There was a new text message from Kurt.

Kurt: _You can call any time if you like, David. I'll be around for the rest of the evening._ 5:45 PM

David dialed Kurt's number from his contacts list. As he heard the phone ring on the other side, he remembered the nine times he had attempted to call Kurt earlier in the previous week. His thought was broken by Kurt's voice.

"Hello, David. How is everything?"

David smiled to hear a friendly voice. "Hi, Kurt. I'm doing okay. How are you?"

"We finished dinner about an hour ago. I don't know if you heard. Quinn Fabray was in a really bad car accident yesterday afternoon. She's in the hospital but isn't getting visitors yet."

"Oh, man. I didn't hear that. Do they know if she's going to be okay?" Dave's voice low and solid, like he's speaking on autopilot.

"They say that she's going to live, but there are some injuries they're dealing with. It must be something pretty serious. It's been over a day since the accident." Kurt shifted the subject. "Uh, Finn and Rachel almost got married."

"What do you mean by _almost_ got married. And _when_? I wasn't out of it for _that_ long."

"Yesterday afternoon. Nobody except Rachel and Finn thought it was a good idea, but they were pretty determined to..."

David interjected. "Kurt, I don't mean to cut you off, but I'd like to talk to you in person sometime soon. There are a few things I want to talk to you about. If you save the news update until then, we'll have something more to talk about besides what I want to say to you, which might not come easily."

"Okay," Kurt said quietly, leaving it at that.

"My schedule is wide open, at least for the time being. My Dad is checking into what I need to do to graduate in the spring on schedule. I'd imagine, that until that all gets rolling, I'll have a fair amount of free time, so, any time you could get together would probably work."

"How are your parents dealing with everything?"

"Dad's been great, and I feel terrible for putting this on him. Mom left, at least for the present time."

Kurt gasped. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Honestly, considering the last conversation I had with my mom, it's probably better than her being around. I hate that it was me that caused this friction between my parents. I hate the way she reacted to it. There's really nothing more I want to say about it."

"So, do you want me to stop by your house tomorrow after school?" Kurt said. "If that's sooner than you'd like, I can stop by just about any afternoon this week."

"I'll need to see if there's anything I need to take care of here, like, my Dad seeing what my school options are: he's doing that tomorrow. It should be okay for you to stop by later in the afternoon. I appreciate you offering to make the trip over here. I don't know how ready I am to go anywhere."

"Well, my house is a safe place, David. You could meet me here any time."

"Kurt, your dad scares me. I gave him major reasons to dislike me, I know that; and I can't expect that he could possibly understand or accept that I've changed."

"My dad isn't here all that much right now, especially during the week, but I understand your concerns, no problem. Incidentally, I do have a way of getting my dad to bend enough to open up his head a little."

"Did you give Sean my number?"

"Yes, I hope that's okay. He said you and he were friends at Thurston."

"Yeah, that's true. One of a number of things I potentially fucked-up."

"David, he said some really great things about you. He did say that things became difficult between the two of you, if 'difficult' is the right word; but he considers you a friend." There was a short pause. "Do you know how I met him? I was on your Facebook page, which, by the way, is something you shouldn't look at any time soon, and Sean was defending you among all of those anonymous hate comments. He stood up for you, David."

David smiled slightly at the thought. "I'll be calling him, probably right after I get off of the phone with you." Kurt could hear the smile in David's voice.

"There's something else I wanted to ask you right now," David continued. "Your dad has dealt with this kinda stuff. This is all new to my dad. If my dad needs to talk to anyone who has been through this already, I'd like to know if it would be okay for him to talk to your dad. I know my situation is really different than your situation was, but I feel he probably doesn't have anyone to talk to who has any real experience with this. And as scared as I am of your dad, it's obvious that the two of you get along very well."

"My dad's the best," Kurt audibly smiling this time. "Actually, that thought occurred to me, but I haven't yet asked my dad about it. I'll ask him tonight before he and Carole leave for DC."

"Thanks, Kurt. For everything. Truly."

"You're welcome, David," Kurt said, at a loss for something more insightful to say.

"Well, I wanna give Sean a call. I'll talk to you tomorrow, maybe."

"I will definitely be talking to you tomorrow, David. Goodbye."

"Bye, Kurt."

David texted Kurt a message containing his father's cell phone number for Kurt to pass along to his dad, Burt. Then David sent Sean a message.

David: _Hey Sean. It's Dave Karofsky. Thanks for your messages. I'll be around all night if you want to talk._ 7:58 PM

Not two minutes passed before David's phone rang. His default ringtone was "Hell's Bells" by AC/DC. He thought for a moment that he might change that ringtone sometime soon.

"Hello? Sean?" David spoke into the phone.

"Hey, Dave, yeah, it's me. Good to hear your voice."

"Great to hear your voice as well, Sean. Glad to hear from you. Your text messages came as a welcome surprise."

"Well, Kurt contacted me. He seems like a good guy. You were a really good guy to me, Dave. I couldn't just forget that. I had to try to at least contact you."

"Well, I kinda fell off of everybody's radar in the last few months, so we probably have some catching-up to do."

"No doubt. I'd really appreciate sitting down and talking to you soon being that I didn't see you when you were in the hospital."

"That'd be great by me as long as you don't mind coming to my place. I'll be upfront about the fact that I'm not really comfortable going anywhere right now."

"It's cool. If I can't drive twenty minutes to see you, what kinda friend would I be? Some evening this week would be good if you're up for that."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Let me know when you want to come out. I have a feeling that I'll have a lot of free time on my hands for the immediate future."

"Some of the other people are gonna want to see you too, but I don't want to overwhelm you."

"You mean Scott, Justin, Howie, and Spence? On one hand, I'd love to see those other guys. On the other, your consideration is appreciated. Hopefully, we can all get together sometime soon."

"Yeah, well, Gretchen really wants to see you too, Dave."

David fell silent.

"Listen, Dave, I don't know what happened between you and Gretchen, but she's missed your friendship like crazy for months."

David choked, but managed to get out a response. "She's amazing. I miss the hell outta her too, but it seems so fucking complicated."

"Don't let it bug you, Dave," Sean replied. "All of her thoughts about you are good, I know this; but we'll leave that discussion for another time. Hopefully, she'll address you one-on-one about all of that." A slightly awkward silence passed. "Hey, Dave, I should really get going, but I want to see you soon, okay?"

"Okay, Sean. Take care. Thanks for tracking me down. Great to hear from you."

"Good bye, Dave."

"Later, Sean."

David felt good. He was reclining on his chair in his bedroom. Only his desk-lamp was on, and his room was fairly dark save for that one pool of light; but it felt right. It was _his_ space. His darkest hour which ruled this space less than a week earlier held no sway over him now. Even his apprehension about talking with Gretchen was calmed by the knowledge that she missed his friendship. David stood up and turned on another light, brightening the room to a somewhat greater degree. He heard a knock at his bedroom door. Still standing, he craned his neck toward the door and spoke, "Yeah?"

"May I come in?" Paul asked from the other side of the door.

"Sure."

David's father opened the door and saw David standing there with a pleased expression on his face.

"Everything okay?" Paul asked. "Talk to your friends?"

David smiled a bit wider and exhaled. "Yeah, I'm good, Dad. Some friends want to drop by and see me at some point this week."

Paul smiled slightly, nodded, and entered the bedroom. "Can I sit down?"

David, still smiling, "Sure, Dad."

Paul took a seat on the wooden trunk at the foot of David's bed and motioned for David to sit beside him. David obliged.

Paul spoke. "I just got a call from Burt Hummel, Kurt's father."

David turned to look at his dad's face. "Oh, yeah?"

Paul continued. "Yes. He said I could call him if I had any questions or concerns about what we're going through, and he'd help if he could. Or if I just needed someone to talk to."

David addressed Paul with his eyes, his face a bit more serious; he nodded, understanding.

Paul looked back, a pleading expression in his eyes.. "David, this is all new territory to me." Paul shook his head a little. "As uncomfortable as it might be for both of us, we need to communicate as much as we can. I'm going to take this on with everything I have."

"Thanks, Dad," David nearly whispered, at a loss for a more definite response.

"You can count on me being here, David."

David nodded, shifting the subject. "Kurt was one of the people I was talking with, actually."

"How'd that go?" Paul asked, looking somewhat taken aback.

"Well, actually, Kurt and I have been friends for a little while," David answered back. "I know it sounds crazy considering our past, but he's helped me a lot."

Paul laughed a little. "Life can do that kinda stuff. I can't pretend that I understand how that works, but it's good when it does work."

"He visited me in the hospital yesterday. He told me that he's glad I'm alive. He kinda made my day. He got me to smile for the first time in four days."

Paul smiled. "Life is so crazy. I think I need to collect on a hug right now."

"Me too," David spoke, just above a whisper.

Paul grasped David's right hand with his as if they were shaking hands, then wrapped his left arm around David's shoulder and held him close for a minute. David felt secure, protected, almost child-like, in his father's embrace. Paul let go and stood up, smiling, not wide but appearing very content, looking at David. "If you need anything at all at any time tonight or any other time, let me know."

"Definitely will, Dad."

"You okay staying in here for the night?"

"Absolutely, Dad. I'll probably be up for a while; I might go back downstairs for a while. For the last five days, I've done little other than sleep. I might not fall asleep so easily tonight, but I have no problems with this place."

Paul smiled and nodded, closing the door behind him as he exited.

David picked up his phone and clicked through the settings for a moment, contemplating a new default ringtone. Then he remembered how his mom always hated the AC/DC ringtone. He decided to keep it, at least for now.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.
> 
> Approximate words this chapter: 5,500

**Chapter 6**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 4**

This particular Friday morning had a buzz about it. It was the second Friday of the school year, and, having the tension of that first uncertain week under their collective belt, the students were panting eagerness in anticipation of the imminent weekend. This day felt less rigid and more rowdy than the previous Friday. The students were also stoked for the evening's football game and the bonus of shorter classes to make time for the afternoon pep rally. The acts of teaching and learning were mere formalities on a day like today.

Dave got an early start that day and was hanging out in the hallway with a couple of other football players when Howie entered one of the school's side entrances with Gretchen. Howie was nearly unrecognizable in his Gretchen-approved wardrobe; she'd even managed to do something with his hair that made him look, well, nerd-sexy (and the asymmetry of his hairstyle somehow optically created the illusion that his glasses rested upon his face correctly). His suit was dark gray with a hint of blue; the jacket had small lapels and was cut slightly longer and fuller than a typical sportcoat, completely flattering/hiding his body's bottom-heavy shape. He wore a light-gray dress shirt, a solid-color, semi-metallic navy-blue tie, and a matching handkerchief just peeking out of his breast pocket. The transformation was complete. Howie was somehow professional-looking and definitely hot.

Dave gaped as he watched the pair enter the main building, gawking for a moment, then approached Howie, quoting the spoken lines from his favorite Van Halen song:

_Hey man, that suit is you! You'll get some leg to-night for sure! Tell us how you do!_

Stunningly, Howie answered as if on cue.

_C'mon, Dave, Gimme a break._

Impressed by Howie's preparedness, Dave completed the exchange.

_He-he-he-hey! One break, comin' up!_

Gretchen and Howie laughed heartily. Dave beamed a huge grin. "And you even knew how to answer me when I quoted that song! You deserve a scholarship grant just for that, Howie!"

"It's a great song, Dave; and YOU turned me on to it," Howie answered. "I heard it for the first time the other night in your truck. I downloaded it as soon as I got home."

"Dude, you looked like you were in pain when it was playing," Dave said, surprised at Howie's revelation.

"Nah, that's the way he always looks when he's enjoying himself," snickered Gretchen.

"Seriously, Howie, you look amazing," Dave said, smiling and nodding with sincerity.

"Thank you, Dave; but I gotta give credit to Gretchen for, like, all of this."

Gretchen interjected, "Justin, Sean, and I are going to Howie's presentation thingy this afternoon."

"Aw, I'd go with you if I didn't have a game. I'm sure it'll be a great time."

"Hey, I gotta run to my locker, guys," Gretchen said. "See you later in the day, I'm sure."

"Later, Gretchen," Dave and Howie both said loudly above the din of the Friday hallway noise.

"Hey, Dave, were you serious about coming to the presentation if you didn't have the game?" Howie asked in a hushed tone.

"Hells, yeah, I'd go. Why wouldn't I?"

"I just think it'd be kinda boring, even for me."

Dave shrugged a little. "I'd be hanging with my friends, and that would be worthwhile in itself, right?"

After his first-period Calc class, Dave had a free period. Normally, he'd be getting his Calc homework done or heading to the library to do some research for his yet-undecided AP History project topic; but this day, he decided to head to the locker room to see if there were any teammates hanging out and getting psyched for the night's game. Sure enough, there was a group of other team members just hanging out and getting rowdy; and it was only second-period.

"Karofsky!" It sounded like five of them shouted his name in unison upon seeing Dave enter the locker room.

"Hey, guys! Johnno, Randy, Nick, Tony..." Dave greeted them and roughly shook hands with them as he said their names. The collective adrenaline rush he got out of being on a team was a genuine high for Dave. Randy actually hugged Dave in a rough way. _Was this the same guy I confronted earlier in the week?_ Dave asked himself as he laughed and leaned into Randy's hug.

A voice rose above the noise from the other side of the locker room. "Hey, you guys see Howie Schmitt in his monkey suit today? I'm gonna soda-bomb that dork after lunch. You guys in?"

Dave cranked his head around to see his teammate Carl, the guy who just proposed the prank.

"I'm in!" shouted Eric followed by Tony and Zach.

"You guys are _not_ gonna do that," Dave said over their voices. "It's a dumb idea and a lame prank."

"Why not, Karofsky? It'll psyche us up for the game, and show those dorks who's boss around here." Carl laughed back at Dave.

"Because it's lame, there are many other ways to get psyched for the game that don't involve ruining some poor guy's day, and no one has contested the fact that this team kicks ass," Dave countered.

"I'm with Dave," added Randy. "It will accomplish nothing other than making people think we're assholes."

"Aw, c'mon guys!", Carl whined. "Where's your sense of fun?"

"Stupid fun that makes us look like idiots and potentially could get the bunch of you guys in trouble," Dave added.

Carl opened his mouth again to protest, but Nick cut him off. "Karofsky's right. There are things worthy of potentially getting in trouble for. Soda-bombing a finely-dressed nerd is not one of them." Nick's comment received a few laughs of assent.

By the end of the exchange, the proposed group activity had dwindled down to Carl alone, and even Carl was on the fence. Quietly, Dave thanked Randy and Nick for the backup. Nick slid Dave a sly grin while adding, "Your man Howie is friends with that Gretchen chick, and I'm guessing that you've got Howie's back just so you get into Gretchen's pants.” Nick paused, grinning wider. “Am I right?"

Dave laughed quietly and shook his head, reacting to the statement, saying nothing.

Just before lunch, Gretchen caught up to Dave in the hallway, a slight bit frantic. "I heard that the football team is going to soda-bomb Howie after lunch," she said to Dave, almost accusingly.

"That is _not_ gonna happen," Dave answered, facing straight ahead.

"Did you hear anything about it? They _always_ pull that kinda crap before a game."

"I heard about it. It is _not_ gonna happen." This time he turned his head and looked downward, visually addressing Gretchen.

"They always follow through once a story gets out th..."

"Trust me on this," Dave cut Gretchen off in mid-sentence, facing her, straight-on. "Meet me at the cafeteria entrance after lunch. Does Howie know that this is supposed to go down?"

"I don't know. Probably. Everyone knows."

"Is he gonna be hiding out somewhere if he does know?" Just then, Dave saw, in the periphery of his vision, Howie headed to the men's room. "Just meet me right after lunch at the cafeteria entrance. See you then." Dave walked swiftly to the bathroom he just saw Howie enter and waited outside the door for him.

Howie exited the bathroom after about two minutes. Dave pulled him aside. "Hey, Howie. You okay?"

"Yeah. Why?" Howie's cluelessness seemed genuine.

"You hear about anything? Any _covert operations_?" Dave was intense, and he can be scary when he's intense.

Howie was stunned. "Uh. I...I don't really know what you're talking about."

"Okay, here's the deal. If you hear anything, do not be alarmed. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me." Dave addressed Howie's eyes and nodded reassuringly, spooking Howie somewhat.

Howie proceeded to the lunchroom. Dave followed stealthily several steps behind.

Dave sat with the football team, and it seemed very-much a normal game-day lunch period. Carl was markedly quiet during lunch. Dave was quiet also, keeping an inconspicuous watch on Carl. Just as the period was ending, Dave watched Carl walk up to the soda machine and buy a can of root beer. Carl didn't open it; he instead carried it back with him, shaking it a little and trying to keep it somewhat hidden behind his leg, holding the can low. Carl was going to try to pull this off.

Carl slipped out of the cafeteria early. When Dave noticed that Carl had gone, Dave bolted quickly, mindful that Howie and his friends had not yet left their seats. Gretchen left early also. She was looking for Dave at the entrance as he had instructed, but he was nowhere to be seen. She instead saw Carl standing there at the opposite side of the entrance, though he probably didn't notice her. She could see inside the lunchroom; Howie was approaching the exit. She saw Carl raise the can of root beer and give it a couple of shakes. She then saw Dave appear, just behind Carl. One moment he wasn't there, the next moment he was, his appearance camouflaged by the passing students. She stealthily crossed the to the other side of the entrance, weaving her way between passing students exiting the cafeteria. She stopped about a foot away from Dave, just close enough to hear him speaking quietly to Carl just as Howie approached the entryway.

"You're not gonna do this, Carl. There are a bunch of witnesses here. I'm not saying that I'm one of them, exactly; but there are people all over the place who will see what happens. If any of these people sees you doing this, you will get suspended and you won't be playing the game tonight if that happens."

Howie was exiting the lunchroom and walking slowly down the short hall that leads to the main hallway. He would have made a perfect target as he was walking so slowly and stopping to talk to various people as he walked. Dave continued his quiet advice to Carl.

"Here's what you're going to do, Carl. You are going to pop that can open while holding your hand over the top as tightly as you can to minimize the splatter. It shouldn't be too bad, and you're standing right by a garbage can to catch the overflow. Then, once it has stopped fizzing, you're going to drink that root beer, okay?"

Carl looked down and swallowed. He cupped both hands over the top of the can and popped it open over the trash can. It splattered a gush of root beer safely into Carl's hands and dripped minimally into the trash can. Carl lifted the dripping can and chugged a mouthful. Dave reached around Carl and handed him several napkins to wipe the soda from his hands. Dave addressed Carl with his eyes, gave the slightest smile, and nodded as if to assure him that he had done the right thing.

As he was making his way through the crowd, Howie turned his head to see Dave and Carl standing side-by-side. Carl was lifting the can to his mouth to chug another gulp of root beer, and Dave, almost giddy, smiled and nodded a greeting at Howie. The two of them looked odd, as if posed for a photograph. With no other idea of how to respond, Howie visually addressed the two football players as he passed and said, loudly enough for the people in the immediate area to hear, "Go Dragons!" Though it sounded unsure, Howie made his hand into a fist to emphasize the statement.

Dave's smile widened and he snickered, patting Carl on the back. "It's gonna be a fuckin' kick-ass game tonight," Dave said, just loudly enough to draw attention to his choice of words. Carl chuckled, fighting to keep root beer from coming through his nose. "Catch you later, Carl," Dave boomed as he walked away, patting Carl's shoulder again as he left.

Gretchen was dumbfounded, nearly swooning. Dave put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently down the hall in the direction he was headed. Gretchen looked up at Dave. "You _are_ a fucking diplomat," she said. Dave beamed a wide smile down at her.

The field was a mess that night, but the Dragons had a reputation for playing well in such adverse conditions. Though he wasn't crucial in winning the game for them, Dave was proving himself to be a well-rounded, versatile player who thought fast and made smart moves during the games: not exactly a star-player, but a consistently reliable, solid addition to the team; the guy that came through with what was needed at the necessary moment. His coach praised his work during the games. It was obvious that Dave had a mind for the game: he wasn't just a hulking brute out on the field; he had a physical agility that belied his size, an outstanding sense of alertness, and the mental capacity to engineer plays on-the-move.

The Thurston Dragons had won the game, but it was exhausting. Dave felt spent as he exited the field in a mass of his teammates, covered in mud, looking forward to getting cleaned-off. The rest of the guys were celebratory-but-subdued due to the punishing nature of that night's game. Dave was bidding the other players good-bye and congratulating them collectively on a good game while he was exiting the locker-room building when he heard shouting from the parking area.

As he approached the parking area, demarcated by a high cyclone fence, Dave saw Gretchen, Sean, Justin, and Howie flailing their hands in the air, trying to draw Dave's attention, waving Dave on toward them. Dave smiled wide upon recognizing them.

"Hey! What are all of you doing here?" Dave hailed to the group.

"We were out and about and thought we'd come to the game," Sean shouted back. "We got here late, so they just let us in."

"How much of the game did you see?" Dave asked, still somewhat astounded by his friends' presence there.

"We saw most of the third quarter and all of the fourth quarter." Sean answered.

"We took Howie out for a celebratory dinner after the presentation," Gretchen explained. "Well, his parents took him out, but we hung with them and took Howie out for some friend-time after we finished dinner. We thought you should have been there too, so we did the next-best thing and came to you."

Dave smiled, genuinely touched by their presence.

"Yeah, and Gretchen raided her parents' wine collection for the occasion," Justin spat out, sloppily, through a laugh. Gretchen's eyes bulged and she put her hand over Sean's offending mouth while jabbing an elbow into his ribs.

"Why not just hold up a neon sign that says 'underaged drinkers here'?" Gretchen scolded.

Dave gaped and scratched his head unconsciously, appearing still puzzled but glad to see his friends nonetheless. He rounded the fencing and came to their side of the partition. Justin was pretty quiet, as he almost always is, but appeared jovial; Sean seemed a little slap-happy; Gretchen was her usual bouncy, happy self; and Howie was downright sloppy in his revelry.

"Um...which one of you is driving?" Dave asked with a hint accusation in his voice.

"Justin is driving back. He had a couple of little drinks before we got to the restaurant." Sean answered.

"Yeah, I'm completely good to drive now," Justin added.

Dave observed, a little leery. "If you're not sure about driving, I'll get you all home if you need me to, I mean, it's still pretty early. My parents are still here, I think. I could use their car, and my dad could take my truck."

"Naw, Dave, I'm okay to drive, really," Justin said.

"Karofsky! Good game!" A voice yelled from a distance.

Dave turned to see Nick waving as he crossed the parking lot to his car, his girlfriend-of-the-moment on his arm and his equipment bag slung over his shoulder. Dave waved back. "Thanks, Nick! Have a good night and be safe!"

Dave turned back to the group of friends. "Well, at any rate, I'm seriously hungry after that game. Since you all have already eaten, I don't suppose any of you would be up for accompanying me while I inhale a couple of burgers or something?"

Justin and Sean shook their heads, declining the offer, while Howie stumbled, a little oblivious. Gretchen spoke up. "That was hours ago. I could probably eat something now. I am kinda hungry. Are you hungry, Howie?"

"Y'know, I am kinda hollow-feeling," Howie answered, sounding more coherent than he appeared.

"Well, then, if Howie and Gretchen wanna hang with me and get something to eat, I'm driving," Dave announced. "Just let me touch base with my parents."

Just then, a pair of headlights pulled up to the group. "Hey, there's my parents now." The slowly-approaching car halted, and the driver-side window lowered.

"Hey, David," Paul called out. "Nice game! Nice _win_!"

Dave smiled humbly. "Thanks, Dad. Hi, Mom!" Dave waved past his father to his mother who was waving back from the passenger-seat, smiling proudly. Dave turned to his friends. "Guys, and girl, this is my mom and my dad. Mom and Dad, these are some of my friends: Sean, Gretchen, Justin, and Howie."

Dave's parents smiled, waved, and spoke brief greetings; Dave's friends waved and spoke similar words in kind. "I was just gonna call you," Dave said to his parents. "I won't be coming straight home. I'm gonna go get something to eat with my friends."

"Okay, well, have a good time, and be in by 12:30," Paul directed at Dave. "Nice meeting all of you!" Dave's mom waved at the crowd as Paul pulled away. The bunch of them waved as Dave's parents departed.

Since neither Justin nor Sean wanted to go home just yet, Both cars headed in the direction of the local burger place. Howie and Sean rode with Justin; Gretchen rode with Dave. When they arrived, they all got something at the counter and moved themselves into the dining area, taking over two tables in a far corner. Dave, true to his promise, made short work of two double-cheeseburgers and an order of fries; Howie hungrily devoured a burger and an order of fries also.

"Greasy food just feels right after I've been drinking," Gretchen said as she stuffed fries into her mouth, several at a time.

"I'll second that!" added Sean between enormous bites of his double-cheeseburger while Justin drained a caffeinated soft drink.

"Okay, I apologize if my losing all sense of decorum when I'm buzzed and ravenous offends anyone," Gretchen said brazenly.

Once Dave swallowed, he smiled at her and laughed; Sean retorted in Gretchen's direction, "like any of us are going to care, especially right now."

At that point, Carl, Tony, and a couple of the other guys from the football team entered the dining area. They took a table near the same place where Dave and his friends were sitting. Carl eyed Dave from across the way, and gave him a silly salute gesture. "Good game, Comrade Karofsky!" The guys with Carl laughed in a friendly manner. Dave laughed, stood up, and walked over to their table.

"Hey, guys," Dave greeted them, giving them all tough-guy handshakes. "Cool running into you all here. My friends were at the game and flagged me down on my way out."

" _They_ were at the _game_?" Carl asked with some shade of surprise to his voice.

"Yep," Dave answered. "They came to see me, but they had a great time watching the game, just the same. Hey, great game, and great seeing you guys, but I'm gonna get back to my friends. I'm riding a couple of them home when we leave."

"Later, Karofsky," the guys at the table seemed to collectively say. "Catch you on Monday."

"Monday, fellas," Dave replied as he returned to his friends. "Have a good weekend, and be safe tonight."

It was about eleven o'clock as the group exited the restaurant; Howie, Justin, and Sean filed into the car they came in, Justin taking the driver's seat. "You don't mind driving past my place to drop me off, do you, Dave?" Gretchen asked.

"Not at all!" Dave answered accommodating. "That was part of the deal in the first place, and I expected to be driving Howie as well; I guess Justin and Sean are much cooler than you and me are, Gretchen," Dave joked through a slightly sarcastic grin. Sean shot a similar grin back at Dave.

Before they left, Dave stopped by their car and motioned for Howie to lower the window. "Hey, Howie, how are you feeling?" Dave asked. "You were drinking and you ate. Is it sitting on you okay?"

"Yeah, I feel good. Feels like it sobered me up a little."

"Good," Dave replied. "No nausea or anything like that then?"

"No, honestly, Dave, I feel fine," Howie answered. "I'm just pretty tired. Could use some sleep. Long day."

"Hey, Dave," Sean said from the passenger-seat. "Thanks for hanging out and checking up on us."

"No problem, guys. Just get home safe, and have a good weekend."

Dave climbed into the driver's seat of his truck and started the engine. "Is it that obvious that Howie's a novice?" Gretchen asked as Dave put the truck in gear.

"Yes. It's that obvious. He didn't seem dangerously drunk, though; and eating that greasy food definitely stabilized him. What are all you smart kids doing getting drunk anyway?"

Gretchen laughed. "What? You think getting drunk is exclusive to your team-buddies, the class badasses, and the stoners? Smart kids like to let off steam also, and it wasn't the first time. Anyway, we were celebrating Howie's achievement."

"I wasn't serious," Dave defended himself. "Well, maybe a little where Howie was concerned. The rest of you, I can tell, are fine. Howie, I'm sure, will be alright too."

"Your concern is really sweet, Dave."

Dave wasn't sure if that was sincere or sarcastic. He took it for sincere. "Well, you people are my friends."

Gretchen nodded and smiled, slight and pleasant. "Did you think at all about the Homecoming Dance?"

David exhaled loudly. "Yes, I've thought about it," slightly sarcastic.

"Come to any conclusions, Mister Diplomacy?"

Dave opened his mouth to answer, but stopped short as the off-the-cuff nickname Gretchen gave him sunk in.

"Comrade Karofsky?"

Dave laughed aloud. "Okay, you can stop now, Sister Sarcasm." Dave paused. "Yeah. I'll go. How much am I gonna need to blow on clothes for this because all of my appropriate clothes would be, like, totally boring next to whatever you plan to wear."

"I will have you looking awesome for less than a hundred dollars."

"That's not bad at all."

"I already have a gameplan. What's your shoe-size?"

"I'm gonna need new shoes?" Dave asked, puzzled. "I _have_ decent dress shoes."

"Attention to detail, Doubting David. I'll find the shoes you need to buy online, and you can order whatever size you need for yourself if that information is too sensitive."

"Okay, size twelve, preferably a wider width."

"Oh! _Baby_..."

Dave, catching the joke after a couple of seconds of silence: "Aw, shut up!" Dave laughed and blushed; Gretchen cackled back at him, and he laughed even harder for a while, eventually calming and shaking his head, red-faced and grinning. "I should have seen that one coming, Gratuitous Gretchen." Gretchen replied with a loud, smug laugh.

Dave pulled his truck to a halt in front of Gretchen's house, parked the truck, and turned off the engine. Gretchen reached into her duffle bag. "Do me a favor, Dave?" Dave looked over as she pulled a partially-empty wine bottle from the bag. "Help me get rid of this?"

"Aw, I don't think so, Gretchen," Dave said, looking somewhat deflated at the suggestion.

"I didn't ask you to drink it with me, but you can if you'd like. I just don't wanna take the empty, or mostly-empty, bottle back into the house with me. You can just toss it if you'd rather do that."

Dave sat, silent. Gretchen uncorked the bottle, took a drink, and handed it to Dave. "There's about a third of a bottle there," Gretchen observed. "You could drink that by yourself, and, with two burgers in your stomach and your body mass, you'd never be affected at all."

Dave looked at Gretchen with a smirk and took a gulp. "That's pretty tasty, actually. I've had wine what kinda feels like its sucking all of the moisture off of my tongue." He handed the bottle back to Gretchen, and she took another drink. They passed the bottle back and forth a few times until it was empty.

"Are you going to be able to get rid of that empty?" Gretchen asked.

"Yeah, no problem."

Gretchen dug into her purse and produced a packet of chewing gum. She gave a piece to Dave while unwrapping another and popping it into her own mouth. "I'm gonna get going. Your dad gave you a curfew."

"Well, I have time, but, you're right, I should get moving."

"Yeah, don't want mom and dad thinking that your new friends are a bad influence," Gretchen teased. "We'll talk about getting you some bitchen threads soon. I'll text you tomorrow." Gretchen climbed down out of the truck.

"Goodnight, Gretchen."

Gretchen smiled and waved as she approached her house. "Good night, Dave."

Dave unwrapped the piece of gum and put it in his mouth before starting his truck and getting on his way. He felt a slight warmth from the wine. It mellowed him somewhat. Okay, he drank a third of a bottle of wine, less than that, really, and felt a faint tinge of guilt. He couldn't understand why. He didn't feel bad, though. He'd done worse things, certainly. Maybe his self-defined pact which he made with himself to be honest was at the root of this fleeting quandary. He let it go. Ultimately, he felt good.

He drove back past the burger place on his trip home, pulled up close to one of the trashcans in the parking lot, and deposited the spent wine bottle into the receptacle.

Dave arrived home at 11:30. His dad was still up, sitting on the couch and surfing channels, but his mom had long-since gone to sleep. "Hey, Dad," Dave greeted quietly-but-directly as he walked past the family room on his way to the stairs.

"Hey, David," Paul answered. "Come here for a minute?"

"Sure, Dad. What's up?" David sat in a chair near the couch, facing his dad.

"It looks like you've made some nice friends," Paul said, smiling and warm. "They look like a different crowd from the people you associated with when you were at McKinley."

"Yeah, most of my friends at McKinley were other sports guys. I thought, since I had the chance to broaden my spectrum of friends, I'd do that. I mean, I still like hanging out with Azimio and some of the other guys; but I literally met Sean the first day of school at Thurston, and we have a few classes together. We started kinda hanging out in school sometimes, and he introduced me to his friends. They were out celebrating Howie getting a scholarship grant for some research he did over the summer, and they came by the game to see me."

"Scholarship grant for research? I'm impressed, David," Paul said sincerely but with a hint of humor. "It was really nice that it sounds like they went a little out of their way to include you."

"I told them that I'd have been helping Howie celebrate if I could have, but I had a game; they surprised me by bringing themselves to where I was." David smiled. His dad smiled back. "I had trouble at McKinley, Dad; I know I did. I tried to pull myself out of it, but I think the people there were part of the reason. I needed a complete change of scenery, I think."

Paul nodded, understanding.

"I know I did some bad things at McKinley. Maybe I just didn't want to see that place or those people again. I'm not happy with the way I conducted myself there. I tried to make things right. I did some hugely horrible things there." David was talking pointlessly, almost in circles. He made sense, but it wasn't going anywhere.

"Maybe I wasn't completely honest about who I am when I was at McKinley. Maybe starting in a new place, not knowing anyone, gave me the freedom to be more myself." The words found a direction. David was close. A part of him, a big part of him, wanted to go over that edge and tell his dad what he wanted to say, what he wanted to reveal. The uncertainty was nearly causing him pain.

"As long as you feel like you're not leaving anything unfinished at McKinley, I think you're alright," Paul took over. "The anonymity that a new crowd affords can be liberating. I know you're a good kid at heart, David."

"I'll be going to the Homecoming Dance with Gretchen."

Paul smiled wide. "That's great, David. She's very pretty, and she seems, um, interesting."

David laughed. "She's _artsy_ ," it sounded almost like a correction. "I'm gonna go upstairs and get off to sleep. Goodnight, Dad."

Paul reached out and patted David on his shoulder. "Goodnight, David."

David arrived at his bedroom, let himself in, shut the door behind him, set his equipment bag down onto the floor, shook off his jacket, and flopped down onto his bed. He was nearly shaking. He wanted so much for someone to understand. _Anyone_. Even when he was at McKinley, part of him felt an intense pain to be understood. He thought he could leave that part of him, "unfinished" as his dad put it, at McKinley, but it was increasingly more difficult to cover. There were times when he desperately wanted to be revealed. He couldn't do it himself; he genuinely was afraid. He was so close to telling his father just minutes ago. He couldn't, though, and the feeling brought tears to his eyes.

He lay there for a while and calmed. Exhausted from the day, the game, and the fairly late hour, David found sleep easily.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced, once again, is "Unchained" by Van Halen from 1981. I don't own it, but I love it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.
> 
> Approximate words this chapter: 7,400

**Chapter 7**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 5**

Dave had just gotten settled into his bedroom after his shopping trip with Gretchen when his phone rang. It was Gretchen. "Hello, Gretchen," he dragged it out sounding intentionally like a henpecked husband.

"Okay, lose the attitude, Karofsky. I emailed to you the link for the shoes which you should buy. You'll never find them in a shoe store in Lima, so you'll need to buy them online. There are a number of people selling them on auction sites also, so you might find a better deal, but at least you know what you're shopping for."

"Let me boot up my laptop. In the meantime, you said I needed a long-sleeved black dress shirt and black dress pants, right?"

"Yes. Ideally, the pants should be pleated in the front not just plain dress pants."

"What does that mean?" Dave asked.

"They have pleats around the midsection, kinda fitted, and the legs taper off a little as they go toward the cuff."

"How about I send you pictures of what I have and you tell me if they're what you're looking for?"

"That works. We lucked out and found your jacket at the first place we went, so that part was easy. Oh, hey, don't get your hair cut before the dance."

"I was gonna go get it cut tomorrow," Dave answered. "I'm due for, like, over a week."

"It would work if it's short like you always wear it, definitely," Gretchen speculated, "but I can do something really cool with it if it gets a little longer."

"I feel like a guinea pig."

"You saw what I did for Howie. I transformed him for a day. With you, I don't need to go nearly as far. We're just gonna dress you up a little. Well, a lot. The hair thing is an afterthought. If you decide to get your hair cut, you'll still turn heads."

Dave was checking the link Gretchen emailed to him. "Golf shoes. Are you serious?"

Gretchen laughed. "I knew you were gonna say they were golf shoes. They're black-and-white wingtips; and they're gonna be amazing with the black-and-white houndstooth jacket."

"Uh," Dave exhaled, exasperated. "All the guys are gonna say I'm wearing golf shoes."

"Then you can educate their bohunk brains and tell them that they are a style of men's shoe which became popular in North America in the nineteen twenties and thirties and remained a part of popular men's fashion through the nineteen seventies; and, although they're not often seen today, they are still readily available through specialty outlets and revered as part of retro men's styling."

"Fuck. Like I'm gonna remember all that. Or any of that. And they'll probably wanna kick my ass for saying it. Hey," Dave continued, sarcasm obvious in his tone, "is there any specific type of belt I should be wearing, or will any old belt do? And what about a tie? Please tell me that you don't want me to wear a bowtie. Please?"

Gretchen was full-on laughing. "No belt. Suspenders instead. And we're gonna need to find you an awesome tie. Not a bowtie."

"Whew. Thank you for that. How about a white or a black tie? Everything I'm wearing is black or white."

"No, your tie will be a shot of color amid the high-contrast monochrome. We just need to find something strong in that department. No wide ties either. Medium width would be best. A skinny tie might work, but with your body-type, a skinny tie probably wouldn't be best."

"My head is going to explode, Gretchen."

"You'll be fine. And no one is gonna kick Comrade Karofsky's ass because they'll hafta go through me first.”

"That's comforting. I don't have any suspenders, by the way."

"They're easy too. I'm gonna get going. Remember to send me pictures of the black shirt and the dress pants, and make sure the pants and the dress shirt fit you with a little room. A tight dress shirt is not what we're after. Fitted is okay; tight will kill the look."

"Okay, boss. Talk to you tomorrow. If we need to do more shopping, maybe tomorrow afternoon."

"Sounds good, Dave," Gretchen paused. "Oh, Dave?"

"Yeah, Gretchen?"

"You are going to look so hot."

 

* * *

 

 

Gretchen: _The shirt is perfect. The pants aren't. I can remedy this easily. What time do you want to go shopping?_ 9:45 AM

Dave: _What time works for you, and where are we going?_ 9:56 AM

Gretchen: _Kensington Coat Factory. Nice clothes for cheap. Over 10 minutes to reply to my text? Slacker._ 9:58 AM

Dave: _It's Sunday morning, dammit! Give me a break! What time?_ 10:01 AM

Gretchen: _Pick me up around 12 or 1? That work for you?_ 10:03 AM

Dave: _See you around 12._ 10:06 AM

Gretchen: _Neato._ 10:07 AM

 

* * *

 

 

"This is your tie," Gretchen said, matter-of-fact, pulling it from the tie rack at the store.

Dave eyed it skeptically. It had huge stylized gold and magenta roses against a black background, the fabric had a subtle metallic shimmer. "Are you sure?" He threw an incredulous expression. squinting.

"Definitely."

"Like you're sure about the polka-dotted suspenders? Because I'm not sure about those either."

"The polka-dots are small. Tiny white dots on black suspenders. Subtle, actually. Did you order the shoes?"

"Yeah, I did last night: found them on an auction site for forty dollars, shipping included. My size exactly," Dave announced proudly.

"Okay: twenty for the jacket at a resale shop, looks like it's never been worn, twenty for the pants, forty for the shoes, five dollars for the suspenders, and the tie is three-ninety-nine," Gretchen calculated out loud. "You're under budget by eleven dollars."

"Well, then, as long as I don't look like an idiot at the dance, you're a freaking genius."

 

* * *

  

Gretchen was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, her hair wrapped in a towel. Dave was dressed save for his tie and jacket, the top button of his black dress shirt left undone. As Dave sat in a chair in Gretchen's laundry room, Gretchen draped a towel around his shoulders and neck.

"What's this for?" Dave asked.

"I'm gonna be spraying your hair down and using some gel. I don't want to mess up your shirt."

"Uh, I'm allergic to hair gel."

Gretchen bumped him in the head with the heel of her palm. "You are not." She grabbed a spray bottle and began spritzing.

"Augh! That's _cold_! What _is_ that?"

"It's water, you big pussy."

Stunned, Dave forgot about the cold water. "I don't believe you just said 'pussy'."

Gretchen bumped his head again, slightly harder this time.

"Fuh...what was that for?"

"I'm _allowed_ to say 'pussy', you're _not_."

Dave snickered, shaking his head. Gretchen ran her fingers through his wet hair and pulled his bangs down over his forehead. When wet, his bangs were just barely past his eyebrows. "This is perfect," Gretchen said, the look of a mad scientist on her face. She squirted some hair gel into her left hand and began working it through Dave's hair with the fingers of both hands, infusing the entirety of his hair with the gel, giving his it a slick, nearly black, appearance. Gretchen then began to comb Dave's hair, parting it neatly from the left side of his head, but combing it over rather loosely. "You have a natural wave to your hair when it grows out like this," Gretchen noted.

"Is that good?"

"It's fucking adorable," she answered sincerely in a low, gruff tone.

Dave smirked.

Gretchen combed the front above his forehead with her fingers, leaving a few stray tendrils of his hair to drop loose on his forehead. After adjusting them a little, she pulled the towel from around Dave's shoulders and announced, "you're done!" She produced a large hand mirror from a table and held it to Dave's face.

"Is that supposed to be hanging down on my forehead like that?"

"Yes. It's a Superman curl. Do not touch it or try to put them back in place. You look perfect."

"I kinda like it, actually," Dave shrugged.

"Okay, now I gotta get ready. It'll take me about twenty minutes. You can put on your tie in the upstairs bathroom, and you can get acquainted with my parents if you like. By the way, Dave, the shoes are perfect, and the suspenders are completely sexy."

Dave just smiled back silently at that. He went upstairs to the bathroom and tied his necktie. As he looked in the mirror, he considered that he did actually look pretty amazing, and the suspenders were pretty awesome; though he still wasn't sure about the shoes. Then again, when he put on the black-and-white houndstooth jacket and looked into the full-length mirror, he had to admit to himself that it looked pretty great when it was all put together.

He exited the bathroom and quietly walked down the hall. He could hear quiet sounds coming from the family room and see the silhouettes of Gretchen's parents created by the patterns of light coming from the television as they sat side-by-side on the couch. He didn't want to disturb them, so he had a seat just outside the family room on a chair in the entryway. He began playing with his phone to pass the time, and the light from it must have caught Gretchen's father's attention.

"Dave," the man spoke, "you can come in here if you like."

"Yes please," Gretchen's mother added, "The furniture is more comfortable in here than that wooden chair is."

Dave stood and walked into the family room. Gretchen's father turned on a lamp as it was rather dark. "Thank you, Mr. Dolce, Mrs. Dolce." Dave had a seat on the edge of a big, overstuffed chair, not leaning back, conscious of wrinkling his jacket or pants, and smiled politely at the couple. "I didn't want to disturb, you looked kinda into what you were watching."

"Just a favorite movie we've seen probably a hundred times," the woman joked, the man laughed. "But some things just never get old."

Dave looked at the black-and-white-and-gray images on the screen: a scene inside a well-lit nightclub set in some past decade and an exotic location, a homely man in a white suit, a beautiful-but-heartbreakingly-sad-looking woman, a black man sitting at a piano singing a song as he played: _you must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh..._

"Gretchen tells us that you're on the football team." Gretchen's father asked casually.

"Yes, that's true," Dave smiled slight and shy. "We've won every game so far this season until last night. We blew it by losing our own homecoming game, unfortunately."

"You look very nice tonight," the mother commented.

"Thank you very much," Dave's smile widened and added a hint of a blush. "Gretchen picked all of this out. I really wouldn't know the first thing about putting something like this together."

"She's good at that," the mom answered, nodding. "It will look great with what she's wearing."

"I'm sure it will, but I have no idea what she's wearing, so it will be a surprise to me."

"I'm ready," Gretchen appeared in the doorway.

"That was qui..." Dave was too struck by her image once he turned his head around to complete his sentence.

Gretchen was dressed in a form-fitting, knee-length black art-deco-styled dress which was beaded in an irregular pattern all over with tiny black glass beads. The shoulders were slightly angular and emphasized, accented with appliques in a bold geometric pattern in a gold, metallic fabric with white and red bead accents as the appliques continued to the end of the sleeves which came to about half-way down Gretchen's upper arm. Though the front of the dress came up to Gretchen's neck, the back had an open panel, exposing a fair amount of her back. She was wearing sheer black stockings and black medium-heeled shoes which were tasteful and unembellished. Her black hair was done in a perfectly smooth, classic bob in the iconic style of silent film star Louise Brooks only a bit longer, unlike the pigtails and simple pull-back style Dave was accustomed to seeing Gretchen wear in school. She was clutching a small evening bag which was deep gold in color and beaded all over in swirls of black glass beads with black-beaded fringe dangling all along its base. She was made-up simply with her eyes accentuated more than usual and deep red lipstick. Her complexion was smooth and white like fondant. She appeared sophisticated and intense, almost intimidating. "How do I look?" When she smiled, the illusion of her daunting presence broke. She became Gretchen again: all dressed-up, but suddenly familiar and friendly.

Dave stood to meet her. He had to restrain himself from saying 'fuck' in front of her parents. "You look incredible."

She smiled wide. "You look pretty sharp yourself." Dave smiled back at that.

"I'm gonna go get my camera; you two look great," Gretchen's mom got up from the couch and went into an adjoining room.

"You're not complete, Dave," said Gretchen as she walked over to a hat-rack in the darkened hallway.

"Huh?" Dave mumbled as Gretchen returned with a black fedora fitted with a simple white hat-band and accented with a piece of vintage-looking costume jewelry attached to the bow of the hat band where a feather might normally be worn. The jewelry was basically a pin with shiny black stones fixed to it; the shape was geometric and masculine-looking.

"Lean forward," Gretchen asked. Dave did so and Gretchen placed the hat upon Dave's head, slightly forward and tilted to one side, the intentionally-stray curls of his bangs peeking out from under the hat. "I saw it at the resale shop and thought it would complete the look," Gretchen explained. "Luckily, it fits the way it's supposed to."

"Can I go see what this looks like on me?" Dave sounded eager, almost excited.

"Sure, there's a big mirror in the dining room," Gretchen led, Dave followed. Gretchen turned on the light and the two of them appeared in a huge horizontal mirror which was framed in an ornate antique-looking gold frame.

Dave was awestruck by what he saw. The two of them were absolutely striking together, and Dave was almost too taken with amazement to smile. He just gawked at their reflection."

Gretchen's parents entered the room, smiling. "Move away from the mirror, it will catch the flash from the camera."

Dave and Gretchen turned around so the staircase was behind them rather than the mirror. Gretchen stood in front of Dave, Dave's hands resting on Gretchen's shoulders. Gretchen's mom snapped a few photos. "Can we get a smile, Dave?" Gretchen's mom asked. Dave shook his head a little and smiled a bit. He almost had to force it because he was still somewhat stunned at how completely excellent he looked; furthermore, he was comfortable with the look. It wasn't something he had to convince himself that he liked. Gretchen's dad looked on smiling, admiring his daughter and her date.

Gretchen pulled a vintage-looking knee-length black velvet jacket from the hall closet and put it on before leaving. It was early October, and there was a chill in the air. "You kids have a good time tonight, and be home by midnight, please," Gretchen's father spoke.

Dave looked at the father as Gretchen approached the front door. "Thank you, and we'll be in by midnight definitely," Dave said, reaching out and shaking the older man's hand and addressing the his eyes, slightly anxious as he did.

"Okay, so I don't really dance," Dave admitted while driving to the school. "I can move a little to the music, but it's not something I'd actually call 'dancing'."

"No problem. You can do that. I dance unconventionally. I'm mostly just here to blow some minds."

"I thought that might be what was up your sleeve this whole time. There won't be anyone else there who looks like the two of us, that's almost a given."

Gretchen smiled and nodded silent assent.

The two arrived at the high school; Gretchen coat-checked her jacket. They entered the gymnasium which had been decorated for the dance. The music was loud, but not booming. Almost immediately the couple was flagged down by Dave's friend Corey who was there with his girlfriend Angela.

"Hey, Dave. Great to see you here. You look great!" Corey's eyes betrayed an expression of bewilderment.

"Thank you, Corey! You look great too." Dave smiled, natural and friendly.

"Dave, dude, gotta love the wingtips! Where did you find those?" Corey zeroed-in.

Dave looked back at Gretchen who was flashing a smug grin. "I bought them online; they were Gretchen's suggestion," Dave answered. "Do you know Gretchen?"

"I've seen her around, but I don't think we've actually ever spoken."

"Well, then, Corey, meet Gretchen, my date for the evening. Gretchen, meet Corey, a friend I was in a bowling league with about five years ago." Corey and Gretchen bowed at each other, comically, laughing, mocking the whole formal introduction process. "We lost touch with each other, but I ran into him when I transferred to Thurston."

"Dave, Gretchen, meet my girlfriend Angela." Angela smiled and waved, lady-like, dressed in a rust-colored dress in a style typical of what most of the girls were wearing. Dave and Gretchen greeted back.

"Could one of you do us a favor?" asked Gretchen to the couple. "Snap a pic of Dave and me with my cell phone so I can send it to some friends." Gretchen set up the camera function and handed the phone to Corey. Corey and Angela looked at the image on the screen, muttering between themselves, and, after about fifteen seconds of adjusting, Corey snapped an image and handed the phone back to Gretchen.

Gretchen looked at the image: she and Dave looked great and were both smiling naturally in the picture. "Thank you so much, Corey and Angela. It looks great."

"You're welcome. We're going to talk to some other people, but I'm sure we'll run into you again tonight," Corey replied as Angela smiled agreement. Gretchen busied herself for a moment, sending the pic to Sean.

Three of the guys from the football team came up to Dave and Gretchen with their dates on their arms. Randy said hello and introduced his date Terri to the couple. Terri seemed bubbly and friendly. Carl was with a girl named Carly who seemed somewhat shy but appeared to be having a good time, smiling without saying much. "What's going on?" asked Nick as he approached Dave and Gretchen. "Looking slick, Karofsky."

Dave smiled back at Nick, reaching to shake hands with his teammate. "Thank you, Nick. You look great also."

Nick introduced his date Sharon who had a less-than-friendly appearance. Dave and Gretchen both greeted her in a friendly manner; Sharon, however, looked at the both of them with a disdainful expression and said something about Halloween not being for a few more weeks.

Dave was taken aback, if not slightly stung by the statement, but Gretchen handled the situation addressing Sharon, smiling big and friendly, in a purely congenial-sounding tone. "Well, your Bratz costume is looking pretty good, Sharon, and if something doesn't quite work, you have a couple of weeks to tweak it before Halloween." Sharon stared daggers back at Gretchen and pulled at Nick to walk away. Dave's eyes bulged. Gretchen could be absolutely deadly.

"Um, catch you later, Karofsky," Nick got out of his mouth before Sharon dragged him out of earshot; Dave just waved and nodded at Nick, shellshocked expression.

"I'm glad you're on my side, Gretchen; and that is exactly why I wasn't planning on going to any of these dances," Dave said, trying to be somewhat quiet, shaking his head.

"What? To avoid bitchy people?"

"To stay out of the class politics game. I played that popularity crap at my old school, and it made me a terrible person. I didn't want to do it here, that's all."

"Well, if you were trying to keep things low-key, you haven't exactly been conducting yourself in a low-key manner."

"What do you mean?" Dave asked, puzzled.

"You've shaken things up. In a good way, but, still, there are probably some people you're gonna piss off if you keep it up."

"You mean me sticking up for Sean and shutting down that Howie situation? Well, I can't sit still if something uncool and screwed-up is going to go down and I know about it."

"Is that what happened at McKinley?" Gretchen pried. "You sat idle while people got publicly humiliated?"

"No, _I_ was the bad guy. Can we drop this? I can tell you more about it at some other time if you're really interested, but I'd like to try and have a good time and forget about stuff like that right now."

Gretchen rankled. She couldn't imagine Dave, _this_ Dave, being one of _those_ jerks; and she's not sure she wanted to know more about it. Sometimes it's best not knowing.

"What do you think of the music?" Dave asked Gretchen over the din. "Do you want to dance?" Dave was so desperate to change the subject, he'd even ask Gretchen to dance to achieve it.

"Music's lame. I can dance to anything, though; but, hey, before we get all sweaty, let's get our pictures taken by the professional photographer who's set up over there."

Solid idea, Dave thought. He will want to remember the way he and Gretchen looked tonight, and the line wasn't very long. The photographer took about ten shots of various poses of each couple, then each couple selected the images they wanted to take home as prints. Dave and Gretchen selected three poses and ordered two prints of each and six wallet-sized photos. They'd be ready by the end of the night for them to take as they departed the dance.

As they walked out onto the dancefloor, Dave looked around and realized just how many of the people there were staring at him and Gretchen. This bothered him a little, and it showed on his face.

Gretchen faced Dave on the dancefloor, not quite dancing yet, just feeling some motion in the beat of the song. "What's wrong, Dave?" Her voice sounded genuine concern.

"I just looked around and realized how many people here are, like, watching us. It's kinda freaking me out."

"Fuck 'em," she said. "We have the balls to be the coolest-looking people here. They're all either jealous or envious."

Dave smiled at that comment. "Y'know what?" he said. "I think you're right."

Gretchen smiled back a crooked, slightly malicious smile and began to move with the music. Dave just basically just stood a few feet away from her, bouncing and nodding slightly to the music.

"I hate this fuckin' song," Gretchen said over the music just loud enough for Dave to hear.

"You're dancing to it like you like it."

"I'm dancing like I'm happy that this sap is singing about taking a grenade and a bullet through his head for some chick that doesn't give three shits about him. I'm celebrating his figurative demise."

Dave shook his head and laughed. "I'll say it again, I'm glad you're on my side."

As the two danced through a number of current party anthems, Dave found Carl, Corey, and Randy with their respective dates in close proximity, interacting with him and Gretchen; and he found himself having a genuinely good time. All of them were waving their hands in the air to Hot Chelle Rae and shouting along: _just don't stop, let's keep the beat pumpin', keep the beat up, let's drop the beat down..._ Dave was glad Gretchen had talked him into this as one song faded into the next.

Gretchen danced as if in a trance at one point while Dave and the group of friends watched somewhat amazed, perhaps enchanted.

_...shake it out, shake it out, oh-whoa, And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back, so shake him off..._

Dave and his friends were basically encircling Gretchen, nearly cheering her on, moving only slightly to the beat. As the song ended, the perimeter scattered and Gretchen returned to a smiling, somewhat amazed Dave. The next song faded up.

_Wake up in the mornin' feelin' like P. Diddy..._

Dave began laughing immediately upon hearing the beginning of this next song.

Gretchen shouted, "Hey, I kinda like this song!"

"Oh, it's an alright song, it just makes me laugh a lot when I hear it."

They continued to dance until the DJ spun a Justin Bieber song, and Gretchen refused to dance to it on principle alone. Dave nodded, respecting her unconventional wisdom, and the two exited the dancefloor. "You gotta let me in on why the Ke$ha song makes you laugh so much," Gretchen demanded.

Dave started laughing again. "Well, they had this assembly for Alcohol Awareness Week at my old school, and the glee club sang that song at the assembly."

"Oh my god, that _is_ funny, I mean, it's about how cool drinking is."

"That's not the funny part. The funny part is that a couple of the girls in the glee club vomited purple stuff all over each other at the end of the song."

_"What?"_ Grechen's eyes bugged at the statement and she laughed loudly.

"We all thought it was part of the assembly, like it was planned, but the story got around that they were actually drinking before the performance."

Gretchen did a face-palm and laughed into her hand.

"Then, this story got out about the head of the glee club and the football coach going out on a drinking binge a couple of nights before that, and the glee club guy drunk-dialed the cheerleading coach late that night. She fuckin' played the drunk message he left on her voicemail over the school PA." Gretchen gaped. "And it was kinda dirty. Well, dirtier than I'd have thought that guy was capable of being. Y'know, you never really think about the sex lives of teachers until something like that happens."

"That's insane! So, was the cheerleading coach hot?"

"Oh, fuck no! She wasn't, like ugly or anything, just kinda spinsterish and tough in a female-jock-kinda way, like nothing feminine about her at all. And to think the glee club guy was out drinking with the football coach was weird enough in itself."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, Miss Bieste is kinda sweet, but brutal."

"Wait a minute. _Miss_ Beiste? A _woman_ football coach? You gotta be kidding me!"

"Not kidding, and don't knock her. She was tough. She lead us to win the championship."

"What kinda madness is going on at McKinley? You've gotta be bored silly here at Thurston."

"No, so far, I'm kinda liking it. I mean, I do miss some of the people from McKinley, but I've met some great people here too."

"Oh," Gretchen exclaimed, changing the subject and handling her phone, "look at the message Sean sent to me after he saw the pic that Corey snapped of us."

Sean: _You are both fucking beautiful. Amazing._ 8:52 PM

Dave smiled wide upon reading the message and looked up to see Gretchen with a smug grin on her face.

_Right, right, turn off the lights, we gonna lose our minds tonight, what's the dealio?_

"Oh, man," Dave face pained at the beginning of the next song.

"What's wrong?" Gretchen shot a look of concern at Dave.

"This is one of those dancey songs that kinda bugs me."

"How come? It's pretty damned happy."

"Um...I..." Dave just shook his head like he didn't have an answer which he could actually verbalize.

Gretchen sang along with the chorus, shoulders bobbing to the beat in front of Dave. _…so raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways, all my underdogs, we will never be, never be anything but loud and nitty-gritty, dirty little freaks..._ Dave grimaced at the words.

"I'm wrong in all the right ways, wouldn't you say, Dave?"

Dave looked down, considering the statement. "Yeah, I never thought of it like that, though." He looked up at her, nodding, but his expression didn't lighten.

The dance floor was reaching a high level of movement as one thumpy dance anthem faded into the next.

_It doesn't matter if you love him or capital H-I-M..._

"Aw, man, this is killing me," Dave grimaced.

"Don't like Gaga either?"

"Gaga's alright, but I can't take this song. Seriously, can we maybe get some air?"

The two made their way to one of the side doors of the gymnasium and outside into the cool pre-autumn night.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Gretchen asked, genuinely concerned seeing the sweaty, paled appearance of Dave's face.

"I'll be okay. I think I needed some air anyway. It was getting kinda warm and stuffy in there."

"Maybe we should just cut."

"Uh, no, not if you don't want to. I mean, I was having a great time."

"Really, Dave, I think I accomplished what I wanted, and it's only going to go on for another hour or so."

"Your call. I'd be okay staying. I'm feeling better already."

"Nah, let me go get my jacket. I think you need a burger or something. Stay here, and I'll be out in five."

"Now that you mention it, burgers sound great right about now. I'll follow you in to pick up our pictures. I'll meet you at the coat-check."

Gretchen admitted that she had actually forgotten about the pictures. Dave paid the photographer and picked up the photos: a bag containing six five-by-seven prints, each in a cardstock folder, and a tiny box of wallet-size prints. He checked the contents to make sure it was correct before he left the counter and met Gretchen in the hallway. They got into Dave's truck and drove to the burger restaurant.

They briefly debated whether they should go into the restaurant or just get food at the drive-through and eat in the car. Dave opined that they'd look out-of-place in a fast-food restaurant in their dressed-up state, making a case for the drive-through window; Gretchen countered that the incongruity created by their attire and the fast-food environment is exactly the reason why they should dine in. Gretchen's logic was impossible to dismiss and easily won. Dave ate his usual two double cheeseburgers, fries, and soft drink; Gretchen had a double-burger and a chocolate shake.

"I hope it didn't upset you to leave the dance early. I kinda feel it was because of me."

"It didn't bother me, not at all," Gretchen replied. "We just would have heard more debatable music and maybe a couple of good songs; and our leaving early probably prevented me from getting into a dragged-out fistfight with Sharon or some other textbook conformist bitch."

At that, Dave laughed and Gretchen followed after a few seconds.

They got back into Dave's truck and headed for Gretchen's house. They arrived a little after eleven o'clock, well before the time Gretchen's parents had suggested. They both exited the truck and Dave walked Gretchen to her front door. The two stood and faced each other, illuminated in the glow of the outside light, both appearing quite content with the evening, both warm despite an October chill in the air.

"I want to thank you for a great night. I had an awesome time tonight, and you're a complete gentleman, Dave. Thanks for taking me to the dance."

Dave smiled, a closed-mouth grin at first, then suddenly widening into a full smile. "I had a good time also, and I never would have had this experience if you didn't ask me to take you in the first place."

"And thanks for being so great about me dressing you up."

"Hey, I like the results. I _really_ like the results." Dave smiled and nodded. "Oh, here," Dave removed the fedora from his head to hand it to Gretchen. "Take your hat."

"Oh, no. Keep it. It's yours."

"Are you sure?" Dave asked with an expression of slight concern.

"Yes. Definitely. It's so perfect for you. It's yours."

Dave smiled, warmed by the gesture, and placed the hat back on his head. "Thank you, Gretchen," he nodded softly.

There was a brief silence. The two looked at each other. Gretchen reached up and gently pulled Dave down to her level by his arms. Dave tensed inside, feeling somewhat awkward, but this was not evident in his movements or expression. Gretchen gently pulled him close; Dave gave no resistance. Gretchen shifted her head to the side of Dave's, and placed a single, simple kiss on his cheek. Dave smiled and returned the kiss.

The two slowly pulled apart. "Thank you again for a fun night, Dave," Gretchen's eyes locked on Dave's.

"Thank you again for talking me into it. Have a good night, Gretchen."

"You too, Dave. Good bye. Talk to you soon."

"Good bye." Dave turned and began walking toward his truck, turning his head briefly to say, just loud enough for Gretchen to hear him, "And I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow!"

Gretchen laughed and let herself into the house.

David arrived at his house a half-hour before midnight. The outside lights were on, and he let himself into the house. Both of his parents were in the family room, watching the television. He walked in, still fully-dressed from the evening, and, despite having sweated a fair amount, his hair was still holding shape and his clothes remained presentable. He appeared in the entryway to the family room, illuminated by the soft light, and greeted his parents.

"Oh, David, you look so handsome!" his mom said upon seeing him.

"Looking good, David," his dad contributed. "I like that hat. I might ask you if I can borrow it sometime."

David laughed through a genuine smile.

"Did you have a good time?" asked his mom.

"Yes, yeah, we had a really good time. I have pictures." David handed his mom the folders containing the photos.

"Oh, how handsome the two of you are! She looks like an art-deco-era model!" She passed the photo to her husband.

_Art deco._ David considered the term, banking it for future reference.

"Yeah," David began, "some of the people there weren't too keen on her style."

"Ooh, Why?" David's mom asked, "she's very striking."

David's father answered before David could, "she's too much an individual for them, probably."

"Yeah, and she wears it with pride," David completed.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Paul added. "It's commendable as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, we turned a few heads and had a great time with our friends," David summarized. "I'm tired so I'm going to go upstairs, get out of these clothes, and sleep. Good night, mom. Good night, dad."

David's parents both wished him a good night, and David ascended the stairs to his bedroom. He got out of his clothes, carefully hanging the jacket on a hanger and leaving the pants and black shirt in a pile on the floor for the laundry. He debated taking a quick shower for a moment, then decided that he'd rather just go to sleep and shower in the morning. He laid in his bed, comfortable but not entirely calm. Gretchen was an amazing person. He was apprehensive that she might have feelings for him beyond the merely friendly. He told himself as he tried to find sleep, _you cannot lead this girl on. It will fuck her head and yours. She deserves better than that. Keep that in mind, no matter how great she is,_ because _of how great she is, you gotta keep that in focus. Do not let this fuck up your friendship with this person you care about._

Sleep, once again, eventually found David.

 

* * *

  

"Everybody who was at the dance is talking about you and Gretchen," Sean said in a near whisper first thing Monday morning. "You guys are the 'it' couple."

" _Really?_ " Dave remarked, his surprise genuine. "What are they saying?"

"Well, depending upon to whom you speak, they're saying that finally someone is cool enough and has the balls to date Gretchen or they're saying that the new kid took the class freak to the dance because he had no other options. Either way, the second part of the buzz is about how the two of you cut out an hour early. There's zero speculation as to what the two of you were up to."

"Joke's on them in all cases," Dave countered, sounding unremarkable, nearly bored. "Gretchen and I are only friends. I might be a nice guy, but I'm no archetype for 'coolness'. Gretchen, however, _is_ an archetype for 'coolness', and the only people who would call her a freak are people who wish they were as awesome as she is. As for me having no other options, my original plan was to not go to the dance at all, so I at least had that option. We left early because she was bored with the music and I wasn't feeling well. We went for burgers, and that made me feel better. I dropped her off at home, and then I went home myself. That's the whole story."

"Good luck getting anyone to believe it."

"Doesn't matter to me if they believe it. I doubt if Gretchen cares either."

At lunch that day, Corey and Angela sat with Dave and Gretchen and their friends over lunch. Corey asked Dave if he still bowled; Dave replied that he hadn't been in a league in years and didn't really have time for it, but that he's up for an occasional game from time-to-time. They made tentative plans to get together and bowl informally some weekend afternoon. Gretchen and any of the other friends were invited as well, and the idea sat well with everyone.

The remainder of the day passed in a relatively unremarkable way until Dave entered the locker room for after-school football practice.

"Karofsky!" A chorus of about five or six guys hailed his entrance in unison, as was normal.

"Hey, guys! What's going on?" Dave replied, rowdy and friendly.

"Finally someone on the team is nailin' that Gretchen chick!" yelled Tony across the locker room followed by a few whoops from some of the other guys.

"Nah, no, guys," Dave smiled slightly and shook his head. "Gretchen and I are friends. There's nothing else going on there. You'll hafta get your real-life porno-fantasy fix elsewhere."

Some of the guys moaned in dissent. Eric and Carl approached Dave. "Okay, the 'just friends' thing might work for now, but you do know that we're gonna want details so you will hafta fess-up eventually, right?" remarked Carl.

This kind of locker room banter always made Dave somewhat uncomfortable, but now that he was a direct target, it was nearly nauseating. "Listen, guys, if I was up to something with Gretchen, there are things I wouldn't tell you. Sorry to disappoint, but Gretchen and I are only friends. If we were more than that, I'd tell you that much, but anything more specific or detailed than that is none of your business." Dave was squeamish about the questioning, but he kept his composure perfectly during the exchange.

"Alright, Karofsky is no fun, but this conversation _isn't_ over," Carl snickered as he walked away.

"Hey, Karofsky?" a quiet voice came from behind after the other guys cleared out to the other side of the locker room. Dave turned around to see Johnno standing behind him. "Those guys are full of crap. They can't imagine a guy being friends with a girl without him having some kinda motive. If you are seeing her, good for you. The rest, like you said, is none of their business."

"Thanks, Johnno," Dave smiled back. "It takes something to say that in this environment."

"Even if I couldn't say it when they were standing here?"

"You still said it. You could have just pretended you didn't hear it."

"I respect you, Karofsky. You're different. You're alright."

"Thanks, Johnno." Dave nodded and smiled, patting Johnno's shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gretchen's parents are watching the classic American film Casablanca (1942); the song is the film is the classic "As Time Goes By".
> 
> Referenced songs are, in their order of appearance:
> 
> "Grenade" by Bruno Mars  
> "Tonight Tonight" by Hot Chelle Rae  
> "Shake it Out" by Florence + the Machine  
> "Tik Tok" by Ke$ha  
> "Raise Your Glass" by P!nk  
> "Born This Way" by Lady Gaga
> 
> I don't necessarily like all of these songs, but they all seemed appropriate for this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.
> 
> Approximate words this chapter: 7,500

**Chapter 8**

 

**Monday February 27  
** **Six days after David's suicide attempt**

"I need to finish as much of my homework as I can right now," Kurt told Blaine during a free study period in the school library as the end of the school day neared. "David says he wants to talk to me this evening, and I'm going to try to keep that."

"Be careful, Kurt," Blaine warned. "I know what he went through is terrible, and that makes him seem sympathetic; but he's still the guy who knocked you around and threatened to kill you. I don't know if you should trust him."

"Your concern is appreciated, dearest Blaine," Kurt was sincere, not the least bit patronizing. "But I'm not afraid of David any longer. Since I returned to McKinley after going to Dalton last year, something definitely changed in him. We have some kind of wordless understanding," Kurt shook his head and rolled his eyes on those last two words." Besides, I said I'd help him, and I plan on sticking to that."

"You're an amazing guy, Kurt, really one of the warmest, kindest-hearted people I've ever known, and that's one of the many reasons why I love you; but you're not Karofsky's keeper."

"Blaine, when I was having my trouble with David, it was you who gave me the guidance that I needed in that situation. David needs that from someone now, and I know his situation probably better than anyone. He feels abandoned in the biggest way, in a way I never did. I want to help him. I told him that he could count upon me to be a friend. This is the kind of thing friends do for each other."

"You're right, Kurt," Blaine admitted. "Hope everything goes okay."

"We're just going to talk. Okay, it might get heavy, but we're just talking. Who knows? Maybe you and David will become friends someday too."

Blaine smiled. "Weirder things have happened. Karofsky and I both like football. And we both like guys."

Kurt and Blaine laughed into a quick hug and a kiss before leaving school and saying goodbye to each other for the day. "I will call you tonight and let you know how it went," Kurt said as he stood by his car, preparing to leave.

"Please do," Blaine smiled in response.

  

* * *

 

 

Kurt arrived at David's house at seven o'clock. Before he even rang the bell, Paul saw Kurt's approach, met him at the door, and invited him into his house. David also had seen Kurt's approach and was coming down the stairs to meet him. Before David could greet Kurt, Paul stopped him. "David, I'd like to speak to Kurt in private for a moment, if that's okay."

"Sure, Dad." David retreated back up the stairs as Paul led Kurt into the family room.

"Have a seat, please, Kurt."

Kurt sat on the couch as Paul sat on the edge of the large chair which faced it. Paul's eyes addressed Kurt's, friendly; Paul positioned himself physically close, facing Kurt directly.

"Kurt, I want to thank you for visiting David and for being part of his life right now. This can't be easy for you considering everything that happened just a little over a year ago."

Kurt addressed Paul right back, confident and shaking his head briefly. "No, Mr. Karofsky, this isn't a question of what is easy; it's a question of what is conscientiously right. David and I have a history, sort-of. I understand this part of him. I am probably more familiar with his situation than anyone."

"He says that you've helped him." There was a silence as Paul and Kurt looked into each other briefly, their gazes eventually falling. "Well, thank you, Kurt. I guess I just wanted to say that."

Kurt smiled and nodded at the older man. "You're welcome."

Both men stood up from their seats. Paul called upstairs for David, and David came down the stairs quickly. Paul offered his hand for Kurt to shake, and Kurt politely took it.

"Oh, give your father my thanks for calling me last night. It was a kind, most-welcome gesture."

Kurt smiled wider. "Don't ever hesitate to give my dad a call. He can be intense, but he's an awesome guy."

"Hey, Kurt, David greeted, "thanks for coming."

Paul broke his handshake with Kurt and left the two young men, retiring again to the family room.

"Hi, David," Kurt smiled politely; David returned a slight smile.

"Um, do you want to come down to the game room? We can talk there."

"Sure," Kurt replied, "lead the way."

The room was comfortable, and was basically what Kurt expected: a basement converted to a sport-themed man-cave: pennants hanging on paneled walls, trophies on display, a fairly large television on one side of the room, a large, overstuffed couch in the center facing the television, a small area of exercise equipment in an opposite corner; but it was also nicer-looking than Kurt expected, somehow more inviting. Kurt had a seat on the chair adjacent to the couch where David seated himself.

Kurt began, "Well, David, you look much better than you did the last time I saw you."

"Yeah, well, that's not hard; but I do feel better." David smiled slight and nodded. "So, do you want something to drink or anything? I can make some coffee if you want some."

"No, thank you. Maybe in a bit. No coffee, though, school day tomorrow. I don't want to get home all wired and not be able to sleep."

David laughed a little. "Dad made a bunch of phone calls today. There are a few ways we could approach the school situation so I graduate on time. Technically, I'd be graduating from Thurston, and I might need to go back for finals."

"Would you be okay with that, David?" Kurt asked, genuinely concerned.

"Well, it's a few months away, and it doesn't need to be, like, whole days of school. I could show up just to take the finals. In the meantime, my dad is looking into getting private tutors to come here. They'll meet with my teachers from Thurston and make sure I'm on track with the lessons. The AP classes are easier to resolve: all of those tests are standardized. There is that big AP History project I need to complete, but I'll probably have a lot of time to do that. The few other classes I have will be the only ones I might need to go back to the school for finals."

Kurt nodded back. "Have you looked into any colleges?"

"Yeah, and I've gotten some acceptance letters back," David sounded enthusiastic. "The remainder of this school year could mess that up for me, though, so I need to make this work. Dad's gonna take as much time off of work as he can. He has a decent amount of vacation time saved up. He doesn't want me to be home alone much."

"That's understandable," Kurt said softly.

"Kurt, I can't explain what happened to me in the last couple of months. It's like one part of my life was going too fast, another part wasn't going fast enough, and the whole time I was concerned with getting comfortable with myself and my feelings, and that part, hard as it was sometimes, felt really rewarding; but, at the same time, I was so worried about what would happen if I came out publicly." David paused long. "I know how horrible people can be. I was those horrible people."

Kurt nodded, not accusing, very understanding.

"Now that time has kinda stopped for me for several days, and I'm going to be in this house getting my school work done, I feel like I have some perspective on what happened. The people at the hospital recommended that I see a psychiatrist, so I'll be going on Wednesday."

"Do you think that will help?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to approach it with an open mind. The time I spent sitting alone in my hospital room for the last five days seemed more stabilizing to me than the mandatory group-therapy sessions I attended. The other kids in those sessions were, like, kids who were cutting themselves because their parents wouldn't buy them the latest, hippest phone or guys who've been in-and-out of juvenile detention for the last ten years. I'm none of those things. It feels to me like those people created their own problems; and maybe I did also to some extent, but I just wasn't relating to those other guys. It just seemed like they were either spoiled brats or kids who thought they could get away with a bunch of stuff because they were still minors and wouldn't get in any real trouble for it. Whatever the case, they were blaming someone else. They weren't owning what they did. I'll give the psychiatrist a fair shot, but that's all I can promise."

Kurt nodded. "Sitting alone was better than the therapy?"

"Well, I tried to put everything in order. My biggest what-the-fuck moment was being pummeled and shaken back into consciousness by my screaming father after he cut me down. I was like, 'what the fuck did I do to this guy, and what the fuck did he ever do to deserve this?'" David shook his head. "I'm not happy with that, but I'll own it."

"Did your parents already know?" Kurt asked, somewhat shaken by the rawness of David's words.

"What? You mean did I come out to my parents before that?"

"Yes, did they know that you're gay?"

"I came out to my parents at the end of January. Just before that, I felt closer to my parents than I had in a long time, certainly closer than the entire time I was at McKinley. It felt like the right time. My dad, I know, was alright with it, but he really seemed like he wanted to avoid it. He told me that he felt bad for me because people would prejudice me and hate me for it, yadda, yadda. He said that he would have rather I not need to deal with that, but he said he loved me regardless and would help me however he could. I can't say we were really close after I told him. He became kinda distant. Since the suicide attempt, though, he's been everything I could want him to be. It's like, before that, he could say that he loved me, but now I can see that through his actions."

"My mom, though, was in denial for a couple of days. I could see that it was stressing-out my parents' relationship. After my mom's denial period, she was convinced that it was a phase I was going through. Then she was going to look into some kinda therapy to get me 'straight'. She didn't call it a 'disease' until she saw me in that hospital bed. I might have been all torn apart on the inside, but at least I could still think with some semblance of logic. She was talking pure irrational nonsense. You know what they used to do to kids who were suspected of being gay back in the 1950s? Electroshock. Shock treatment was the standard procedure for 'curing' homosexual urges. It would basically 'erase' the patients' personalities and then they'd be 'reprogrammed' to be straight. It really wasn't that long ago when you think about it."

"Is that true?" Kurt grimaced, incredulous.

"Yeah. I did a fair amount of research last summer into things like that. I even chatted online with someone who was forced to undergo electroshock decades ago."

"What do you mean, 'things like that'?" Kurt questioned, baffled. "Were you looking to get yourself _cured_ last summer?"

David sat up slightly and addressed Kurt's eyes directly. His face took on a slight smile with a hint of pride. "No, Kurt, I was educating myself."

Kurt cocked his head quizzically, his eyes serious.

David exhaled and looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at Kurt, trace of a crooked smile on his face. "Do you remember Principal Figgin's office? We were talking about you coming back to McKinley. You told me that I needed to be educated. Last summer was the start of me educating myself."

Kurt remained silent, but sat back slightly, eyes focusing, mouth slightly agape as if slightly awed, visually taking in the sight of David and gravity of the point he was making.

"Kurt, for the entire time we've known each other, we didn't really say much to each other of any substance; we never really had any serious conversations the way we're doing right now, but some of the things you said stuck with me. When I say that you've helped me, I don't think you realize exactly how _much_ you've helped me." Kurt listened intently to David's words. "Okay, a year ago, I couldn't even think the word 'gay' in reference to myself without going into a blind rage. By the end of the summer, though, I was a point where I was comfortable saying the word. I felt comfortable in my own skin. I may not have been ready to tell the world, but I didn't want to drive my fist through a wall when I put the words 'Karofsky' and 'gay' together in my head."

Kurt looked at David more intently and exhaled slowly, feeling like he was on the edge of some sort of eureka-moment. Kurt was genuinely impressed. David changed the subject as he wasn't sure he was comfortable with the silence.

"So, what's going on on your end of things? What's up with Finn and Rachel almost getting married, and how is Quinn?"

Kurt shook his head a little, knocking himself out of his moment of intrigue. "The New Directions won our Regionals competition."

"That's great," David instinctively said, really not knowing what to say, scraping together some enthusiasm for something he always pretended to look down upon. "Congratulations. I know you people put a lot of work into what you do."

"The Dalton Warblers and the New Directions dedicated their performances to you, David. The Warblers took a collection for the Born this Way foundation at the performance."

David just nodded, not really understanding the kindness of these people to whom he himself caused misery or, in the case of the Dalton group, who never knew him at all.

"Rachel and Finn were going to get married over the summer, once school was over, but, well, they decided that life was too short and they should get married as soon as they could."

"Would the catalyst for that screwy logic have possibly been the news that a certain person who was once a thorn in their side wrapped a belt around his neck and tried to leave this world, kicking at the mid-afternoon air?"

Kurt's face pained. He looked away.

"I'm sorry if that was blunt," David said, sounding genuinely contrite. "I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. I own what I've done, whether I am proud of it or not." David's voice perked a bit. "And what happened with Quinn?"

"Still no one has seen her except her mother at this point. She was at an intersection and a pickup truck slammed into the side of her car when she went through a stop sign."

David exhaled loudly, pained sounding, shaking his head.

Kurt continued, "She was on her way to the courthouse for the wedding after picking up her dress."

"I don't know Quinn really all that well," David remarked. "Probably another incredible person I missed out on knowing while I was too busy being a troublemaker at McKinley."

"Don't beat yourself up, David," Kurt said, softly pleading.

"It's okay because it's the truth, Kurt. I wasn't such a jerk at Thurston, though."

Kurt nodded silently, addressing David with his eyes.

"So..." Kurt held out the word for a few seconds, not sure where the conversation was going. "Last night on the phone, you said that you wanted to talk with me about a few things."

David looked up and nodded slowly, addressing Kurt's eyes back. "Yeah, definitely."

"I don't know what that could be," Kurt said, "but do you feel up to it right now?"

"Yeah, I'm good with that," David said with a small smile.

"Well, see, Valentine's Day," David began. "You were right. I mean, I don't think I was entirely _wrong_ , but you were totally right." Kurt shot back a look of confusion. Dave continued. "There's no way I could have been in love with you at the time: I barely knew you. You understood that. It was wrong and presumptuous of me to think that you were even available and, even if you _were_ available, it was crazy for me to think that you'd be the least bit interested in being with me; but, in my defense, and it's a shaky defense, it made sense in my head at the time. I think I went a little insane right around then, and that whole thing was this craziness talking."

"See, Kurt, I admire you for what you are and what you are unafraid to be; _you're_ not afraid to own that. I love you for the things you said that stuck with me. Admiration is love, right? It's not like me admiring a sports figure or you admiring some famous singer whose work you idolize; I mean, I actually _know_ you. You've given me personal guidance, whether you realize that or not. It's love, sure, but it's not a romantic, wanna-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you kinda love. I confused the two. I'm not sorry that I gave you all those cards and gifts for Valentine's Day because I do honestly appreciate what you had done for me and I wanted you to know that. I just let some of my more extreme thoughts rule my actions. That was when I was probably the most mixed-up. When you and I parted company at Breadstix that night, I left feeling very bitter, and I had no right to feel that way."

Kurt looked somewhat overwhelmed by the complexity of what David had just said, and he couldn't deny that it made perfect sense. Relieved, Kurt nodded in agreement. "So, you weren't in love with me at the time?"

"Well, I believed that I was, but, no, how _could_ I have been?" David shook his head, giving a slightly embarrassed smile. "Not only that, how self-absorbed did I hafta be to think that you'd drop everything to be with me? I mean, I wanted to be _understood_. I wanted someone to 'get me'. You were the closest thing I knew to that. I mean, you all but offered me your help a couple of times. You showed your concern for me. That made me love you on a certain level; I confused it for a stronger feeling. I don't think I'm ready for a boyfriend right now anyway. I have work to do on that front. I'd love to have someone to be with, but it's still so difficult for me to let anyone get close."

Empathizing with David's logic and stunned by his openness, Kurt added, "well, I don't know anyone our age who hasn't had confused emotions like that at some point, but it's impressive that you worked all of that out."

"That's what five days of nothing to do but think in a hospital room will do to a person. It went on for such a long time, Kurt," David shook his head at the admission.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, genuinely puzzled.

"It wasn't something that just dawned on me around Valentine's Day. It was going on at McKinley. When I saw you at Scandals. Months. Just that, by Valentine's Day, my confused emotions teamed-up with my increasingly anxious state and the fact that I was understanding myself to a greater degree."

"It was going on at McKinley?" Kurt asked, completely not understanding.

"Kurt, you'd need to get into my head and understand all that self-hating I was going through at the time to fully get it, but there was a fucked-up logic to it. I'll try to explain it if you want me to."

Now Kurt was a little confused. "I don't understand why you want me to know all of this, David. I don't mean to sound unappreciative or trivialize what you're saying here: there's nothing trivial about it. I am interested to know, and I'll listen if you feel you need to tell; but I'd like to know how this is doing you any good."

David tilted his head back, looking a little defiant. "I missed out on knowing some amazing people when I was at McKinley. You, most of all. And it wasn't just that I didn't get to know them. I never let anyone know _me_. Not really. I guess, by telling you this, I'm owning my actions. It means a lot to me that we reconnected." David's tone softened. "If you want me to stop, that's fine; but if you're taking me on as a friend, I think you should know your place in all of this."

"No, go on, David,” Kurt said with a hesitancy in his mind, if not his voice, “If you think you need to say this to someone, I'm here.”

"Maybe I do feel I need to get this out, but the only person I want to say this to is you, Kurt; not some psychiatrist. Where do you want me to start?"

"Start at the beginning. You were slamming me into lockers several times a day."

"Yeah," David hung his head and looked to one side before addressing Kurt again, his disappointment in his past actions showing. "You weren't afraid to be something that was a part of me as well, but something that terrified me. If you never existed at McKinley, I probably could have dealt with everything myself for a while. It would have come out eventually, and it might have been far worse. You were proud of what you are; I was _shamed_ by what I am. I know I was terrible to you. It's going to be hard for you to believe, but it was torture to be me at the time."

"No, I don't doubt that, David," Kurt said softly. "Did you ever feel bad about what you did?"

"All the time. It really got bad for me after I kissed you in the locker room. I felt like a warzone on the inside after that." David's speech was shaky. "I ran out of the locker room and into the back hallway that led to the gym. The lights were off, and no one was there. I just crouched down in the dark hallway and shook. Tremors like nothing I can describe. I cried, and I shook. And I was so relieved that you didn't come after me."

"David, I was terrified at that point. You looked like a wild animal when you left."

"Kurt, when you pushed me away, it crushed me in a way I never felt before. I could take hits out on the football field and really harsh stuff during hockey games, but nothing that ever happened to me knocked me down the way you pushing me away did."

"Why did it even happen? Why did you kiss me?"

David let out a meek laugh, sounding more like a reaction to futility. "I have no answer to that question. I still wonder why it happened that way. The only thing I can think is, as many times as I slammed you into lockers, I never had to see your face while I was doing it. I could look away. I didn't see the reaction of the hurt I inflicted register on you. In the locker room, though, you were in my face. You were looking right at me. I had my fist up, and you challenged me to hit you. I couldn't do it. I couldn't put a face to the pain I was inflicting on you."

"So you kissed me instead."

"It doesn't make any sense, I know," David paused, "except maybe that, on some level, I _wanted_ to be discovered. Part of me wanted someone to drag me out into the open like they were ripping off a bandage and tearing open a wound."

"I noticed that another time also, David."

"What's that?" David asked quietly.

"When we were in Principal Figgin's office. When I came back to McKinley. I told you that I never told anyone. You asked me why I hadn't, saying that it would have made things easier for me. It sounded almost like a challenge to tell. It's something I wouldn't have done, though."

Dave laughed nervously. "Yeah. You gave me that sense of security, and that gave me _another_ reason why I thought I was in love with you."

"That kind-of makes sense, actually," Kurt observed.

"By that time, Kurt, I was defenseless against you. You could see right through me. We were in the office with Figgins and our dads and Schuester and I was fine. As soon as they left the room and we were there alone, I turned into a child. I thought that the Bullywhips was going to be this amazing thing because, even though I was just walking you from class-to-class in silence more-or-less, I had these delusions that you'd come to see me as a protector, and that it would somehow endear me to you. I even flirted with the idea of arranging for one of my friends to fake-attack you just so I could fend them off and be your hero: how's _that_ for pathetic?" Dave's futile laugh again. "You exposed my misery right there in the hallway. You shot down my affected tough-guy act. You saw me for what I was, and I was terrified, Kurt."

Kurt sat silent, just a puzzled smile on his face.

David, suddenly became nervous and fidgety. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I think I freaked you out, and you probably think that I'm a total nutcase right now."

"No, David," Kurt responded quietly and quickly. "Call _me_ crazy, but what you just said, messed-up as it may be, is almost deliriously romantic."

David stared, stoic, sarcastic. "'Deliriously' is the correct word; I'm not sure about the 'romantic' part, though," David deadpanned.

Kurt laughed. David looked puzzled. "I'm sorry, David, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at what you just said and the way you said it. I almost forgot how witty and dry and downright _funny_ you can be. I was always too afraid of you or too angry at you to laugh at your comments before; and, besides, most of them were being directed at me at the time."

David smiled back and chuckled a little, understanding.

"It's nice to be able to laugh at your delivery, David," Kurt continued, "it's a _luxury_." David smiled wider.

David shrugged a little. "Cool that I'm laughing about it now. I was a tragic failure at being romantic."

"Why do you say that?" Kurt said, looking concerned, cocking his head in surprise, "I mean, you've only been trying for a few months if we don't count the psycho-romantic you were at McKinley."

David nodded with a wrinkle of his brow, fully conscious of the subtle-if-friendly insult. "Well, the several nights I hung out at Scandals toward the end were more freakish than illuminating. Mostly everyone was nice to me, but the more of a 'regular' I became there, the more familiar everyone made themselves. I will admit to some major creepage when a guy stood next to me at the bar and deep-throated a beer bottle in lieu of an actual pickup line; and the guys that I was interested in at all always acted like they were too good for me. Sometimes they were polite about it; but sometimes they were downright mean, and that stung. In the end, I came to the conclusion that some of the people were genuinely good; some of them were knocking themselves out to be nice to me because, let's face it, I'm a young guy and most of the guys there, young pretty-boys aside, are lonely men who are far older than I am, and that makes me desirable. If I just wanted to get laid, I'd have been set."

Kurt watched David as he continued to talk, somewhat astounded by the depth of character which David was revealing.

David continued. "But that's not what I was after. I wanted someone to be willing to get close to me first, before all of the other stuff. I finally came to the conclusion that I probably wasn't going to meet that person at a gay bar."

Kurt was rapt, nodding.

After a short silence, Kurt spoke. "David, don't sell yourself short. What you did for me the week of Valentine's Day was incredibly romantic."

"Yeah, but terribly misguided. Or too much. Or something, but whatever it was, it was wrong."

"David, it was sweet," Kurt negated. "You made me feel so special for the whole week. Something else. Until a few minutes ago, I'd have thought it was a fluke; but I don't think so now." Kurt looked at David, smiling but with a playful, accusing look in his eye, "David, you're a romantic; a _genuine_ romantic."

David smiled but looked away, bashful and blushing. "It would have been better-used on an available guy. And getting turned down, though justified it was, sucked out loud."

Kurt laughed and replied, "You'd do it again for the right guy; you _know_ you would." Kurt reached out and affectionately brushed his hand on David's arm.

David looked up, right at Kurt, sarcastic expression with a hint of a smile, nodding. "You're right. I would. I'm apparently a sap too."

"It's only a matter of time before you find the right guy, David."

"Yeah, and, you know what? I can't concentrate on that right now," David answered, suddenly more animated and louder. "I need to get this school stuff all taken care of first. Concentrating on the mechanical stuff like school and putting my emotional issues on the backburner might actually help to give me some perspective. Two weeks ago, this was a juggling act which I was managing somehow, but I was a mess of scattered emotions. Now, I don't wanna think about that. I'll get back to figuring myself out sometime after I get all this more pressing life-stuff under control. Maybe by then, I'll be more ready to find someone."

"I hope you're looking forward to that, David," Kurt smiled and David smiled back. "After talking with you tonight, I think that you are going to make someone very happy."

David's smile widened, becoming more genuine. "I _am_ looking forward to it. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't afraid of getting hurt again, but I think that, when I get it right, it will be worth all of my past fuck-ups. I can't be hurt any worse than I was a week ago." David shook his head and cast his gaze downward.

Kurt smiled and reached for David's hand. David let him take it. Kurt gave a gentle, friendly squeeze to David's hand, and David smiled looking down at the gesture. "David, we all have past fuck-ups." Kurt spoke the expletive with an audible uncertainly.

Kurt held David's hand for a moment in completely comfortable silence, just looking down at their gently-clasped hands, then Kurt said, "It's getting kinda late."

David looked up at Kurt and nodded, still a pleasant smile on his face. "Kurt, thanks for coming over and listening to me. I thought this was going to be heavy, and it kinda was; but I had you laughing. And smiling. And you had me smiling. I feel good about it."

Kurt looked up at David as they stood, eyes bright. "We're friends, David. Friends do those kinds of things for each other."

David's smile widened.

"Something else," Kurt continued. "I want to get your social media stuff fixed so the people who care about you can keep in contact with you. You and me can go through that stuff together. You won't need to see anything if you don't want to, just tell me who to eliminate and block. We'll get the security settings to where they need to be so only the people you allow to have access can interact with you."

"Thanks, Kurt," David said, humbly, clearly, but quietly, "for everything."

"You're welcome, David.

David walked Kurt to the front door. "I'll touch base with you tomorrow about doing that online stuff, David." Kurt said as he looked up at David with a small, optimistic smile.

"Okay," David said quietly, nearly a whisper, as he smiled back. "Talk to you tomorrow then. Have a good night. And thanks again."

"Good bye, David." Kurt exited the house, turned, and waved briefly as he walked back to his car.

David closed and locked the front door once he saw that Kurt had gone on his way. He turned and looked into the family room where he saw Paul filling in a newspaper crossword puzzle with the television on in the background.

"Hey, Dad," David said quietly causing Paul to look up from his puzzle.

"How's everything with Kurt?" Paul asked, setting aside the crossword and smiling pleasantly at David.

"Kurt's good. Mostly we just talked about me. I felt I had some things to get out in the open where our past was concerned."

"Well, I can't say that I understand any of that. You were threatening him at school. Now you're friends. You say he's helped you."

"Dad, I'm eighteen years old. When I was at McKinley, I thought I knew everything, but I was a dumb, scared kid. A month ago, I thought I was doing okay, I was definitely doing better, but I was still doing dumb-kid things. Hopefully, I'll be doing fewer dumb things as I get older."

"Well," Paul said, "It couldn't have been all bad; I heard the two of you laughing a little down there."

David smiled. "Yes, that's true. Kurt kinda gets my humor. Not everyone does. Makes it easier if I can be myself."

"Kurt seems like a very," Paul said, his words coming slowly, "...nice...young...man."

"Dad, I can tell that you wanted to say something complimentary about him, but you couldn't figure out what to say so you settled for 'nice young man'."

Paul shook his head a little before responding: "Kurt's _different_."

David responded, quietly, patiently, but confidently: "Dad, you once said that the fact that Gretchen wore her individuality with pride was commendable. I'd think the same should apply to Kurt."

Paul exhaled loudly. "You got me, David. You're right." Paul smiled and shrugged, knowing David's logic had defeated his ignorant statement. "You're smart. You're going to teach me things. You've taught me a few things already, David"

"I'll be home most of the day tomorrow," Paul changed the subject, "but I will need to stop by the office early in the day. Will you be okay here for a couple of hours max?"

"Yes, Dad. I'll be okay. I know who to get in touch with if I'm not, but I will be. I'll text you every ten minutes to tell you that I'm okay if you want me to."

Paul smiled back at that.

 

* * *

  

Kurt arrived home just after nine o'clock in the evening. Finn was still kicking around in the living room, watching the television.

"Hey, Kurt. Were you out with Blaine?"

"Hi, Finn. No, I went to visit David Karofsky."

Finn's attention startled a bit from the TV. "Really? How's he doing? Are you guys, like, cool now?" Finn was a little incredulous.

"A lot has happened. David's dealing with a lot, and I can help him with some of it."

Finn nodded. "Tell him I said 'hi', I guess, next time you see him. Sometimes I'm not sure how I feel about Karofsky. I mean, I feel bad that he tried to kill himself, but dealing with him was sometimes a rollercoaster. I never knew if I was dealing with friendly Karofsky or asshole Karofsky. Seriously, we butted heads daily."

"A lot can change in a year, Finn. He's not the same person he was when he was at McKinley."

"I have some pretty good memories of Karofsky. I have some pretty lousy ones too. Maybe he could come over and hang out sometime. Be cool to see him."

Kurt nodded. "He has a lot of stuff to get in order from his school work. Maybe after he gets all of that stuff taken care of, he'd be up for that. I'm going to head upstairs and go to bed. I'm a little tired, and I need to call Blaine. Goodnight, Finn."

"Goodnight, Kurt," Finn's attention snapped back to the television.

Kurt did his regular evening ritual before getting comfortable in his bedroom. He reclined on his bed and dialed Blaine.

"Hello, Kurt," Blaine spoke brightly through the phone.

"Hello, Blaine."

Both greetings sounded pleased enough, but they were followed by several seconds of silence.

"So...," Blaine began eventually, "ha-how did things go with Karofsky?"

"David's okay. Better than I thought he'd be. I thought it was going to be a difficult, intense conversation, but once we began talking, it was pretty easy, I guess."

"What did you two talk about? It seems like you were there for a while."

"Well, I think he needed to get some things off of his chest about the way he acted toward me at McKinley. We talked a little about how the rest of the school year will be for him, what he needs to accomplish so he'll graduate on time. I also filled him in on what happened with Rachel and Finn almost getting married and Quinn's accident. He congratulated me for us winning Regionals."

Blaine snickered. "Yeah, that's ironic."

"I agree, but it seems like he's really trying." Kurt continued. "Blaine, you and I have known what we are for years. By the time we acted upon it, we were comfortable with ourselves on some level. David has been burying that part of him all of his life. Okay, it wasn't exactly easy for you and me, but it's all a whole new mode of operating for David. He'll be okay. His dad is very supportive, but his mom basically left over this. He's having to struggle with losing a lot of his friends. That's something I never had to deal with. I'll be there if he needs someone to talk to."

"Maybe we can all hang out together sometime," Blaine suggested, sincerely, but with a hint of insecurity, perhaps. "I'm always up for making new friends. It will be nice to talk with Karofsky without getting into a shoving-match."

At that Kurt laughed, not detecting Blaine's anxiety. "That's true. He's actually a surprisingly intelligent guy once you get past the neanderthal." Kurt felt a slight needle of guilt, knowing that David would be hurt by the euphemism had he heard it.

Blaine laughed causing Kurt a bit more discomfort. Blaine began, "well, then I look forward to meeting the new-improved Karofsky."

"Not new-and-improved so much as real," Kurt countered. "I should be getting off to sleep. I love you, dear Blaine. You're the best."

"No, Kurt, _you're_ the best. You're entrusting yourself to be friends with a guy who caused you a lot of pain. For that, you are amazing. Good night, Kurt. I love you."

After ending the call, Kurt lay for a while, waiting for sleep to come. It came fairly quickly, but not before he could catalog how illuminating his meeting with David was. David was an incredibly sensitive person with an incredible amount of depth hidden under the thick, tough-jock persona; he was also profoundly wounded. His pain brought out Kurt's compassionate nature. Kurt wanted to get close to those wounds, to help them heal.

There were omissions, though. He never told Blaine about the Valentine's Day gifts or David's admission of love that night, an admission David rescinded and redefined earlier this evening. This didn't bother Kurt, really. He felt that it would have served only to make Blaine insecure, especially when considering the events of the last few days. There really was no reason for Blaine to know. Kurt was secure in the way he felt about Blaine. He really didn't need to explain a romantic overture which was, ultimately, doomed.

Kurt considered sending a text message to David before he fell asleep, but he didn't know if he had anything really worthwhile to say at this point. The evening's conversation had been rather draining for Kurt, but in a profoundly good way. Just then, Kurt's phone sounded its text alert.

David: _Hey, Kurt. I know I thanked you before you left, but I really can't thank you enough for listening to me and considering what I have to say. Your friendship really does mean so much to me._ 10:28 PM

Kurt volleyed a message in return.

Kurt: _David, this will sound weird, but I enjoyed our conversation. You are articulate and deep in a way I hadn't seen or even considered. Any time that you want to talk about anything, I'm all ears. If you want me to come over tomorrow to take care of your facebook profile, let me know. I should be free tomorrow night_. 10:31 PM

David: _I'll touch base with you tomorrow. I just finished chatting with Sean. He may be coming to see me tomorrow afternoon, but he'd probably like to meet you if you're cool with that._ 10:34 PM

Kurt: _As long as no emergencies happen tomorrow, I should be good to visit you tomorrow evening. I'd definitely like to meet Sean. I really should get to sleep, though. Good night, David._ 10:37 PM

David: _Thanks again, and good night, Kurt._ 10:38 PM

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 6,062

**Chapter 9**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 6**

"Okay, you've been really quiet lately," Gretchen said, almost accusingly, to Dave as he stood at his open locker before homeroom.

"I won't deny that I have problems with the football team locker-room rumor-mill since the homecoming dance," Dave spoke while facing into his locker, not addressing Gretchen visually. "Not just them. The whole school seems to think I'm doing you. Or you're doing me. Or whatever."

"The dance was almost two weeks ago, and I don't care what anybody thinks," Gretchen replied, defiantly. "Let 'em think what they want to. Let 'em say whatever they want to say if it's going to satisfy their masturbatory fantasies." Gretchen paused. "Sit with us at lunch today, Dave. We miss you."

Dave nodded, looking unemotional, addressed Gretchen with his eyes. "Okay. See you at lunch."

Dave did sit with Sean and Gretchen and their friends at lunch, but he remained quiet. Beyond greeting them in a friendly manner as he sat down with his tray, the few words he said had to be coaxed out of him.

"We're all hanging at Sean's house on Saturday night, Dave," Gretchen spoke, as if intentionally reaching to break Dave's silence.

Sean added, "You are definitely welcome to come, Dave."

"Cool, well, I'll keep that in mind," Dave answered. "Tomorrow is the last football game of the season, and there's no chance of us going beyond that, so, win or lose, it's the last game for this team. Depending upon how that goes or what any of those guys might have planned for Saturday night, I'll see if I can make it."

Gretchen heard the harmless deceit in Dave's answer, and she confronted him after the rest of the group had left the lunchroom for class. "Okay, Dave, I know that you don't pal around with the guys from the team. You might be casual friends with some of them, but that's where it ends. I get that you want to have an excuse not to come over to Sean's on Saturday night." She paused. "What the hell happened?"

"What do you mean?" Dave replied quickly, sounding genuinely indifferent.

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "C'mon Dave. You were friends with us. With all of us. Now, all we get is a 'hello' if we happen to see you in the halls." Dave appeared apprehensive, like he wanted to avoid the conversation. "We like you, Dave. It's not like we can see that you're ditching us for some other crowd or something. We don't see you hanging with _anyone_."

Dave shook his head quickly; his face remained expressionless. "I've been concentrating on my school work. I let my grades slip the last year at McKinley, and I'm working to get them back up where they should be. That was part of the reason why I transferred here: clean slate, less distractions."

Gretchen's tone softened. "Okay. Just know that we miss you. I really don't think that hanging out with your friends over lunch or an evening or two over a weekend is really going to ruin your study habits, Dave." Gretchen looked up and smiled at Dave. He returned the smile..

 

* * *

 

At the end of the school day, Dave walked into the locker room to suit-up for what would be the last practice of the season. A single voice loudly speaking his name got his attention: "Karofsky!"

Dave spun around to face the person who addressed him to find himself looking straight into Nick's camera-phone. Dave heard a clicking sound. Nick retracted his arm, looking into his phone's screen, and spoke. "Deer in the headlights. Mugshot. Perfect."

Dave, face showing genuine irritation and confusion, spoke loudly. "Nick? What the fuck?"

"Calm down, Karofsky," Nick said through a snicker. "My friend's gonna hook us all up with fake IDs. We're gonna go to the strip-bar to celebrate the end of the season. Needs photos to make them look legit. His fake IDs would fool a cop."

Dave face cracked a hint of a smile and shook his head slowly. "Uh, thanks for the invitation and including me, guys, but count me out."

"Aw, _c'mon_ , Karofsky," Nick did a low-pitched version of a whine. "It'll be great. Count yourself privileged, I'm only inviting a few of you guys."

Carl chimed in, "Of course you're coming, Karofsky!"

"No, really, guys. My dad would kill me if he found out I was out drinking at a strip club," Dave's voice returned to a conversational volume.

"Or maybe it's Gretchen who'd kill you if she found out?" Nick responded back.

Dave remained silent, shaking his head. Carl added to Nick's comment, "Hey Nick, you think that Gretchen chick has Karofsky pussywhipped?" Dave exhaled loudly and dropped his head in frustration at the comment.

Nick replied more loudly, "Oh, if that's the case, then I am not taking 'no' for an answer, Karofsky." Nick shot Dave a smug expression. "We're going next Friday night, and you _will_ be there with us."

 

* * *

  

As per normal for game-days, Dave sat with the football team during lunch. Randy was sitting next to Dave; Carl was seated across the table from both of them. It was early in the period, and students were still filing into the cafeteria; the places around Dave, Carl, and Randy slowly filling up with other team members and, occasionally, a girlfriend.

"Hey, you guys up for anything the Saturday before Halloween?" Carl asked. "I was thinking of trying to get a party together that night."

Eric added, from a few seats down, "I think that Chelsea chick is having a Halloween party that weekend."

"No thanks, I was thinking of having a _good_ party," Carl replied. "I can't imagine there'd be anything, um, _interesting_ to drink at a Chelsea party. What about you Randy? You game?"

"Nah, I gotta pass on that," Randy responded. "I got tickets for Terri and me to see that Dracula ballet in Cleveland that night."

" _Ballet_?" Carl mocked. "Aw, Randy, you fag!"

Randy began to reply, something about Terri really wanting to see it when Dave cut him off, looking straight at Carl, sober-faced and saying, "Don't call anyone a 'fag'."

Carl snickered, taking it for a joke. "Just joking, Karofsky."

"It's not a joke. Don't call anyone a 'fag'. It's an ignorant, dehumanizing term." Dave's voice was low in volume, but it was very obvious that he was getting angry, his eyes fixed on Carl, intense.

"What if someone actually _is_ gay?" Carl shot back, confused by the display.

Dave's eyes narrowed, he stood up from his seat, still looking straight into Carl's eyes. "It's not cool to call _anyone_ a 'fag', _especially_ if they're gay." Dave's face grimaced malignantly on the word 'especially'. He spoke loud enough for the whole table to hear, but still beneath raising his voice. Then he picked up his backpack and his tray and walked to a lunch table a few rows away which had a large, unoccupied space. He sat down at an end seat and continued eating his lunch in isolation.

The rest of the lunching football players were stunned. "There's somethin' up with that guy," Nick opined as he shook his head, watching Dave several tables away, eating his lunch by himself.

"This seat taken?"

Dave looked up to see Gretchen standing in front of him, pointing at the seat next to him. Dave smiled slightly, "No, not taken, please sit if you like."

"I saw you leave the rest of the team to come over here and sit by yourself," Gretchen commented. "What's up?"

Dave shook his head. "Game day, and now I'm not hungry, lost my appetite."

"You're gonna need it for the game," Gretchen added.

"Yeah, I'll force it." Dave began eating a cheeseburger.

"So, what's wrong. You do seem upset, Dave."

"Um, I like to play football. I really do love the game. Hockey also. The problem is that the people that generally comprise such groups as football and hockey teams have a higher ratio of asshole-to-nonasshole than most other peer groups."

Gretchen laughed. "You're awesome, Dave." Dave laughed also, turning to his side to smile at Gretchen.

"Oh, according to the other guys on the team," Dave offered, "you've got me pussywhipped."

Gretchen scowled and elbowed Dave in his bicep.

"Ow! What was that for?"

Gretchen raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I told you that _I_ was allowed to say the p-word. _You_ are not."

"I was just quoting. Is there a polite-society term for 'pussywhipped'?"

The elbow again. "Ah! Stop it!"

Gretchen giggled loudly, sinister. "Yeah. P-whipped. And, it's funny, you're not getting any of my pussy so how can you be pussywhipped by me?"

"Uh, guys' IQs tend to drop about 20 points on average when they enter a locker room. They start breathing through their mouths and dragging their knuckles. Things like logic are nonexistent. It's Darwin in reverse. You should see it sometime."

"Depends upon who is in that particular locker room, I guess, but, uh, no. I don't wanna see Jack White if his IQ drops, even if he is in a state of partial undress."

"No?"

"Definitely not. His intelligence is part of his sexiness."

Dave nodded.

Gretchen observed: "looks like your appetite came back, Dave."

"Yeah, better mood, good company, makes eating easier."

Gretchen smiled. "Glad to hear that, Dave. Don't be such a stranger. You're a great guy."

"So," Gretchen continued, "with this latest observation about the team guys, I guess you really don't have an excuse not to come to Sean's tomorrow night." Dave looked up from his tray, stunned, realizing she'd busted him. "Gotcha, didn't I?"

"Okay. Sean's, Saturday night, I'll be there. What time should I be there?"

"Starts at around seven. Could you give me a ride? I'm kinda on the way."

"Sure, no problem. They're not gonna be playing D and D are they? Because I'd have no idea how to play that, and..." Dave was cut off by Gretchen.

"No, not to worry. It's just a friendly informal get-together thingie. Might be some videogames or something, maybe some board games, stuff like that. If they were playing D and D, I don't think I'd be going."

Dave looked up at Gretchen. "What time should I swing by to pick you up?"

"Any time after six-thirty. I don't want to necessarily be there right at seven."

"Okay, I'll touch base with you tomorrow sometime during the day. We'll go from there."

"Peachy." Gretchen smiled up at Dave as he finished his lunch.

Nick observed with Eric from a distance, shaking his head. "And he says he's not pussywhipped."

 

* * *

  

Dave arrived at Gretchen's house at six-forty. Gretchen's father let Dave in the house. "Gretchen is still getting ready. I'll let her know you're here. Meanwhile, you can have a seat in the family room if you like. Make yourself comfortable"

"Certainly, thank you, Mr. Dolce."

Dave entered the family room and sat on the big, overstuffed chair in which he was seated while he waited for Gretchen the night of the homecoming dance. In the near-distance, he could hear Gretchen's dad knocking on a Gretchen's bedroom door, announcing Dave's arrival. Once again, an old black-and-white movie played on the television: an affluent-looking well-dressed man was leading a man in a fine-looking pinstriped suit up the stairs of an opulent interior, stopping at an equally-extravagant dressing room, where a woman, facing away from the camera, bare back and shoulders, appearing to be getting dressed, is asked if she's "decent" (presumably for visitors).

Gretchen's father entered the family room and sat down on the couch, and Gretchen's mother entered the room and sat next to her husband. "Good evening, Dave," the woman spoke.

"Hi, Mrs. Dolce," Dave politely replied. "You two love old movies, I take it?"

Gretchen's dad smiled. "Yes, we met in college. We were both fine art majors, and we fell in love almost immediately." His wife looked at him and smiled; he continued. "There was a movie theater walking-distance from campus which showed classic films-a different one every night. It was a good, cheap date for college kids on a budget."

"You both went to college for fine art?" Dave asked.

Gretchen's dad replied. "Yes, we both started out that way. When I met Gretchen's mom, here, though, I decided that I needed a more stable field of study if I was going to be able to provide her with the means to pursue art." Dave nodded thoughtfully. The man continued. "I was artistically talented, but I was good at higher math also; and that's a far more usable course of study where employment is concerned." Dave smiled at the man's words. "You see, Dave, after Gretchen's mom and I went out for about three months, I knew, beyond any doubt, that I wanted to marry her when we finished college. She was far more in love with art than I was, and, while I was talented, she was a genius at it."

"Oh, c'mon, you're embarrassing me," his wife said, smiling. Dave chuckled politely.

"Do you have college plans, Dave?" the man asked.

"Yeah, I have received some acceptance letters. I want to go for something in the math or science field. I am good at that kinda stuff, and it interests me. I let my grades slip in my junior year, so I'm trying to repair that right now. I've been accepted by some good schools, but there are ones I definitely had my eye on which I'd prefer to attend."

Just then, Gretchen entered the room. "Heya, Dave. Ready to go?"

"Sure," Dave replied.

"Have a good time, kids!" Gretchen's mom advised.

"And in by midnight!" Gretchen's dad advised a bit more sternly.

"No problems," Dave answered. "Nice chatting with you both. Goodbye."

The two made their way out to Dave's truck and climbed inside, Dave holding open the passenger-side door and helping Gretchen climb into the seat. Dave climbed into the other side, fastened his seatbelt, and started the truck.

"Your parents are pretty great," Dave said while putting his truck in gear.

"Thanks. I mean, they're parents, so we butt heads sometimes; but they are mostly pretty awesome."

Dave smiled in return.

The commute to Sean's house is not a long one, and they arrived at about seven-thirty. Apparently, Sean's parents were gone for the weekend, and there was alcohol along with pizzas and typical party snacks.

"What are you drinking, Dave?" asked Sean. I have red wine and I can make some mixed drinks with vodka and rum. Oh, yeah, I have beer also." 

"A beer would be cool, but I definitely want something to eat with that," Dave replied.

"Help yourself: there's pizza, paper plates, snacky stuff," Sean directed Dave's attention to the picnic table set up in the basement where the food was arranged: chips, pretzels, and dip in bowls; pizzas still in the boxes in which they were delivered, still fairly warm. Sean reached out and handed Dave a bottle of beer, cap removed.

Dave smiled. "Thank you! You even removed the cap before you gave it to me: you're an excellent host, Sean." Sean smiled and bowed comically. Sean's red hair was growing out a bit and bounced slightly as he returned to an upright position. "Hair's getting kinda long, Sean," Dave observed.

"Yeah, I'll be able to put it in a ponytail soon if I'm not careful."

"That would actually look pretty cool," Dave opined.

"You think so?" Sean asked.

"Yeah, I do," Dave answered. "Hey Gretchen, do you think Sean's hair looks good grown out like it is? Do you think it would look good if he grew it out longer?"

Gretchen turned around, having just poured a glass of red wine for herself, raised the glass to her mouth, took a sip, looked at Sean, and considered before answering. "Yep, it would be sexy on him," Gretchen answered, nodding approval of Sean's soon-to-be-shoulder-length red hair.

"Hey, Gretchen! Hey, Dave!" Scott and Howie called out from in front of the television where they were playing a game which Dave didn't recognize.

"Hey guys!" Gretchen greeted; Dave waved a silent greeting having just taken a huge bite of pizza.

"Justin's bringing a sandwich ring also, if you'd like to wait for that before filling up too much on anything else," Sean informed the two, Dave specifically.

Within ten minutes, both Spencer and Justin arrived separately to the party.

About a half-hour later, everyone was eating and drinking. The atmosphere was relaxed. Dave and Gretchen sat side-by-side on one of two couches: Dave eating a piece of the sandwich ring; Gretchen working on a third glass of wine. Scott and Howie were in two chairs facing the couch where Dave and Gretchen were sitting; Spencer was sitting on the floor between Scott and Howie. Sean and Justin were standing by the food table. There was typical guy-music playing and the television was frozen on a game menu having been temporarily abandoned by the players. From the direction of the chairs facing the couch, Dave could hear the three boys bemoaning the fact that there was only one girl at this party.

"Hey, Dave," Spencer called from the facing side of the room. "Congrats on winning last night's game."

"Thanks, Spencer," Dave replied. "Last game of an unremarkable season, so it didn't mean much, but it was cool to win. Were you there?"

"Yeah, well, I'm in the marching band, so I've been to all of 'em."

"Wow, Spencer, I didn't know that," Dave smiled as he replied. "I'd have hunted you down to hang out before the games had I known."

"Sean, buddy, you throw a great sausage party!" Howie called from over the din, snagging everyone's attention. "Maybe next time you could actually get some girls here!"

Sean looked over to Howie, a weak smile on his face, already assuming him to be drunk. 'Novice,' Sean thought to himself, perhaps even whispered under his breath.

"Hey, hey!" Gretchen yelled back at Howie. "Do I look like a _guy_ to you?" Dave laughed at Gretchen's aggressive interjection.

"Uh, no," Howie offered. "I should clarify, ' _unattached, available girls_ ' is what I should have said."

Dave stopped smiling. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, finally looking downward at the floor. "These guys too," he mumbled loud enough for Gretchen to hear.

Gretchen put her hand on Dave's. "Howie can be a freaking idiot." She looked over to and addressed Howie: "Dave and I are _not dating_ , Howie."

"Mmm...coulda fooled me," Howie slurred out as the rest of the gathering just shook their heads.

Gretchen looked at Dave and smiled. "I know it bugs you when stupid people think we're dating." This made Dave feel better. "Howie's not stupid, but he shouldn't drink because he becomes _really_ stupid when he does," Gretchen added. Dave genuinely liked Gretchen. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression that something could happen on that front, though. Then again, Gretchen never hinted that she had feelings for Dave beyond friendship. Then something shattered Dave's momentary calm; it was Howie's mouth again.

"Oh, man, that movie was _gay_!" Howie said loudly to Spencer.

Dave's voice cut through the din of chatter and music loud and with clarity: "What did you just say, Howie?"

Howie, shaking his head, definitely feeling the effects of a few mixed drinks, "huh?"

"What did you just say?" Dave demanded. "I want to know if I heard you right."

"That Green Hornet movie," Howie explained. "I was just telling Spencer that I saw it, and it was pretty gay."

"Okay," Dave continued, "how do you mean 'it was _gay_ ,' exactly?"

Howie appeared to be taken by surprise. "Uh, it was just kinda... _dumb_?"

Dave's expression became pointed and angry; his index finger pointed accusingly at Howie. The conversation had the attention of everyone in the room. "Okay, Howie. Lose that fucking definition. 'Gay' is not a synonym for 'stupid'. Got it?" Dave's gaze burned into Howie, Howie's mouth agape.

"Yeah, sure, Dave," Howie replied nervously after a few moments of stunned silence. Everyone in the room was somewhat stunned by the exchange.

"I gotta hit a bathroom," Dave said, breaking the silence and still sounding somewhat irritated.

Sean spoke, "Up the stairs, Dave, turn right down the hall, first door on the left."

"Thanks, Sean," Dave spat out, still sounding angry, eyes still trained on Howie.

Gretchen got up from the couch and walked over to Sean. "I haven't seen him like that before, Sean."

Sean shook his head, looking to be somewhat at a loss. "I've seen him get kinda pissed-off, but nothing like that. He looked kinda scary just now."

After a few minutes the conversations resumed around the room. Gretchen was thinking about another glass of wine, but she wanted to wait until Dave returned to be sure that he was okay. Dave didn't return.

Gretchen signaled to Sean that she was going upstairs, "I think Dave got lost on the way back from the bathroom," she joked nervously with Sean. She didn't see Dave in any of the obvious upstairs rooms like the living room. She stepped outside and found Dave standing on the side porch by himself, illuminated subtly by a street lamp, breath visible in the cool October air as he exhaled.

"You okay, Comrade Karofsky?" Gretchen said in a gentle voice.

"I'm alright. Certain things set me off." Dave looked at Gretchen's face directly, punctuating the end of the response. "I'm not sorry, and I'm not gonna apologize to Howie."

Gretchen shook her head. "No reason to apologize. Howie is drunk; drunk people say stupid things."

"Would you mind if we cut, Gretchen? I really don't feel like hanging here any longer."

Gretchen nodded and reached up and rubbed Dave's arm briskly. "No problem. Boring party anyway. We can hang at my place if you like. Stop for burgers on the way if you're still hungry."

"No, not hungry, but we can stop for food if you are," Dave replied. "Hanging at your place for a while would be cool."

"Nah, I had a piece of that sandwich ring and a couple of slices of pizza. I'm good."

Gretchen went back into the house to say goodbye to the people in attendance and grab her jacket. Dave stood on the porch and waited for Gretchen, not going back into the house. Gretchen returned, saying nothing about the rest of the attendees.

Dave's truck pulled into the driveway of Gretchen's house. She let herself and David in through the entrance to her mom's art studio and turned on the light. Dave was almost awestruck. There were pieces of pottery and sculpture on shelves lining all of the walls of the place in various states of completion. Some had been fired but not glazed; some were completely finished, and some were completely new, still air-drying.

"This is amazing," Dave said. "I've never seen anything like this."

"What?" Gretchen asked. "You mean artwork like this?"

"No, I think it's just that I've never been in an environment where artwork is created. It's kinda-of a visual overload."

Dave walked slowly along a row of finished pieces, stopping at one sculpture. It was glazed in a metallic bronze color, about three feet tall, and comprised of free-form curves. "Do you like that one?" asked Gretchen.

"It's interesting. It looks sexy or something, and I have no idea why," Dave said with a smirk on his face.

Gretchen responded. "It's based on a standing human form. It's very abstracted, but the overall composition is patterned on pronounced features of the human body. That's the thing about art, if it's successfully-executed, even an abstract piece will evoke its basic inspiration."

Dave looked at Gretchen and smiled. "That's awesome."

After looking at some more pieces in the studio, Gretchen led Dave into the adjoining basement room. It resembled an art-studio of-sorts also. "I'm gonna go upstairs and tell my parents that we're home." Gretchen paused by a small portable CD player and turned music on before she went upstairs. The volume of the music was low but comfortably audible in the quiet room.

Dave looked around the room which was dimly-lit. There was an easel set up with a large sketchpad on it, a stool, a couch, and a large easy-chair. There was a card table set up with various drawing and painting items on it: pencils, brushes, paints, etc. Gretchen returned after a few minutes.

"It's only, like, nine o'clock. My parents were, like, 'back so soon?'; I said that it was a pretty boring party so we left."

"Well," Dave said, seating himself on the couch while Gretchen sat in the chair, "maybe it _was_ boring until I went off on Howie, that is."

"You were right though. People throw that word around like it means nothing. I gotta ask, does the way you reacted to Howie have something to do with why you transferred schools?"

"Um, yeah," Dave answered, "it kinda does."

"Did you have anger issues or something?"

"You could say that."

"Dave, you told me that you were a terrible person at your old school. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was curious about it. I mean, from everything I've seen, you're an amazing guy, and an amazingly _nice_ guy."

"Do you remember when the story got around that the guys on the football team were gonna soda-bomb Howie that day he was all dressed-up?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"See, at McKinley, I was one of those guys who would have been soda-bombing other students for no reason other than the fact that I _could_. Only at McKinley, we had a slushie-machine, so that was the big thing. We'd slushie 'uncool' kids." Gretchen looked dumbfounded. Dave continued, "Yeah, I was an ass."

"So, I still don't see why you had to transfer. Just stop 'slushieing' other kids and lead a virtuous existence like you now do at Thurston."

"I don't think that would have worked, Gretchen. See, as much as I'd have tried to do that and really wanted to do that, people were always challenging me and holding that bad behavior over my head. I remember apologizing in front of the glee club one day, and their reaction was, like, 'why should we trust you?' It kinda hurt. And I hadn't been an ass to those people for a few months prior to that. I was really trying to make things right, but they weren't buying."

"There was one guy I singled out months before that. I really made his life so awful that he had to transfer schools."

"Geeze, Dave," Gretchen gasped, "that's not the Dave I know at all."

"I know it's not. And when I was this bad person, that's when my grades suffered. I think I just needed a big change of scenery."

"Why did you single-out this one guy?"

There was a long pause. Dave felt like he physically shrunk when the question was posed. "He was gay. He was out and proud and I couldn't handle it at the time. He came back to the school after I apologized to the glee club. I remember breaking down into tears one day when we were both in the hall. I felt like I had to apologize to him, but I couldn't do it without breaking down like that." Dave's voice became shaky and he felt his eyes get heavy with tears.

"Well, it must have taken something big to apologize to this guy in person. I give you major credit for that, Dave. Most people would have pretended that it never happened."

"I think I would have tried to do that if he hadn't been standing right in front of me that day. He struck up a conversation, not exactly friendly, but he said he didn't hate me, and I fucking lost it. Like I think I'm about to lose it right now." Dave exhaled deeply, trying to hold back tears. "If anyone ever deserved to be hated by anyone, I deserved that guy's hate."

"Wow," Gretchen got up from the chair and sat beside Dave on the couch, placing one hand on his shoulder, the other around his upper-arm. "Dave, you're a better person now, you apologized, and you're a damned good guy now."

"Y'know, sometimes I miss things about McKinley, but I miss things that don't make any sense. I don't miss my old friends so much. I miss saying 'hello' and 'good morning' to that kid, to the rest of the people I treated badly. I never did that stuff, though, I missed that opportunity, and that's what I miss most about McKinley. Is it possible to miss something that never happened? Something that I never had?"

"Yeah, Dave," Gretchen's voice was gentle and soothing. "You regret doing those things, but that's all in the past, Dave."

Dave inhaled sloppily a couple of times, composing himself. He looked at Gretchen and nodded as if to indicate that he was alright. Gretchen stood up and walked back over to the chair. She picked up a sketchpad and began drawing in her usual zealous style, attacking the paper with her pencil, occasionally glancing at Dave. "Are you drawing me again?" Dave asked.

"Yes, I am. Different from last time, though."

"Hey, I know this song." A new song had begun a few seconds before and Dave's eyes perked with the recognition of it. "This song was on Nike television commercial ads when I was, like, five years old."

"John Lennon. 'Instant Karma'. My parents both love his stuff. I guess I do too."

"Cool song. What are we listening to anyway?"

"Uh, just a mix CD. It was in the player. Nothing in particular"

Gretchen tossed the sketchpad over to Dave. His face sobered and his brow wrinkled upon taking it in. "Wow. Scary."

The drawing was all angles and lines, dark spaces, light spaces, and facial features which did actually evoke Dave, but it was a completely abstract form with some human details.

"I'm showing different sides of you here, all at the same time; and I've broken you down into angles. It's called 'cubism'," Gretchen said.

" _Cubism_." Dave considered the word, nodding.

"Y'know, when people joke about Picasso putting both eyes on the same side of his subjects' heads and giving them three noses and stuff? That's cubism. Visually depicting several sides of something at the same time."

The song changed. A spacy, pounding, affected guitar and a laid-back, mid-tempo beat, and a singer sounding like a slightly off-key crooner.

_I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar..._

"You see, you just told me about this guilt you have about stuff you did in the past. I've tried to show parts shaded representing that 'dark part' of your personality." Gretchen sat beside Dave again as she explained the drawing.

_...You shut your mouth, how can you say I go about things the wrong way?_

"At the same time, I've got the shape of your nose in profile, but both eyes visible as if looking at you straight-on."

_...I am human and I need to be loved just like everybody else does..._

"Also, notice that there's a lot more light spaces than dark, and notice that the dark lingers primarily around the edges and outside the defining lines. I did it that way specifically to show that you left this dark stuff in your past."

Gretchen and Dave sat for a few minutes neither saying anything, the song playing in the background, Dave studying the drawing.

"Dave." Gretchen finally spoke. "You're a sweet guy, really. Don't let your past problems haunt you. It sounds like this guy that you once picked on has forgiven you. The rest of them, I'm sure have moved on."

"Thank you," Dave nodded. "I'm sure you're probably right. I think I'm going to head home. Thanks for the talk. I think I needed it after that party."

"You're welcome, and you were right to say that to Howie."

Dave smiled and Gretchen smiled back. As she showed Dave to the door, she pulled him down to her level for a hug. "Drive home safely, Dave."

"Thanks, Gretchen. Good night"

"Good bye, Dave."

Dave climbed into his truck and drove home. He was home by eleven o'clock.

 

* * *

  

_Personal ad posted to greggslist_

**Need help, opinions, and guidance - 18 (lima/finlay/celina/surrounding areas)**  
Date: 2011-10-15, 11:35 PM  
reply to zxczcxzxc at pers dot greggslist dot org

This is probably not the best place to look for help, but I'm a closeted eighteen year old looking for opinions and guidance on coming out. Any serious replies would be appreciated. I want to be clear that I want to email, converse, and chat with people who have something that might help me with this. I am not interested in actually meeting anyone. Discretion is guaranteed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Gretchen's parents are watching is the 1946 classic Gilda.  
> Songs referenced are "Instant Karma!" by John Lennon and "How Soon is Now?" by the Smiths.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 4,200

**Chapter 10**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 7**

"Hey, Gretchen," Sean greeted into his phone.

"Hey, Sean. What's going on?"

"Not a lot. Cleaning up after the party."

"How'd it go after we left?"

"Uh...it was okay. It was a little weird for a while. Howie had more to drink before I cut him off. He crashed at my house because there was no way he was gonna drive in that condition, and the car situation would have been a hassle if someone drove him home. Needless to say, he's nursing a wicked hangover today. He earned every bit of it last night, though." Sean paused. "Everything got weird after Dave went off on Howie."

"Yeah, I could have guessed that's why it got weird."

"It was just so unexpected, and he was so intense about it. Maybe weird isn't the right word. We went from having fun to just kinda sitting there doing nothing. A couple of people did show up later, though, and that brought the mood back up."

"Oh yeah? Who came?"

"Tammy and Teresa. I told them about the party about mid-week, and they just surprised us. Anyway, Gretch, Dave's going off on Howie really did kinda freak us all out. We all like Dave, like a _lot_ , and Howie feels really bad about causing Dave to flip out like that and leave so early."

"Dave's a sweetheart in a lot of ways, Sean, but the more I get to know Dave, the more I realize that there's a lot going on in his head. He's complex beyond any first impressions I had about him." Gretchen paused. "I mean, that's part of what makes him amazing, but he seems a little damaged on some level. I can almost guarantee that he's going to be back to 'quiet Dave' on Monday."

"What do you mean, Gretch?"

"Like the Dave that doesn't talk or hang with anyone."

"You like him, don't you, Gretch?"

"If you mean 'friend-like' him, yeah. If you mean 'boyfriend-like' him, no."

"Really?" Sean was surprised.

"Sean, you've known me how long? We've been great friends for, what, three years now? When have you ever known me to be boyfriend-centric?"

"Yeah, well, that's true. Never."

"Here's the deal. He says he's trying to focus on his schoolwork and grades and avoid melodramatics, and I respect that about him. He gets annoyed when people assume that we're an item. He seems almost overly conscious of that when we're together, even. He's never been physical with me at all beyond the way friends relate to each other. He's a perfect gentleman. Having said all that, he's incredibly smart, and he has this depth of character that I think I've only glimpsed, but what I _have_ seen has kinda blown me away. If I was looking for a boyfriend, he might be the man of my dreams."

"You do think he's cute, though," Sean said with an audible snicker in his voice.

"I do. He's the most unlikely guy I have ever thought was cute, I might add. His character trumps his cuteness, though. He could be hideous with that same personality and might still be the man of my dreams."

"You two would make an awesome couple. I'm hoping it happens, Gretch."

"Why? Like I said, I'm not especially looking, and we _know_ he's not looking."

"I dunno." Sean paused, thinking. "It would be great if these two good friends of mine were an item, that's all. No reason other than that. I think you're both amazing people, and you get along well together. You'd be my favorite couple ever: big, friendly Dave who has this hidden wicked-smart side to him as well as a genuinely scary-streak and cute, little, belligerently-nonconformist Gretchen who is a genius artist and devours her victims with a smile."

"Y'know, Dave would get a kick out of what you just said if it wasn't tied to the idea of us being a 'couple'. I will say that we had a good time at the homecoming dance, and it would be cool to have him around to do 'couples'-kinda things, and I enjoy mocking other people in the cafeteria with him because he gets my humor and I get his." Gretchen pauses. "How the fuck can a guy who looks like him get my humor, damn it?"

"It really doesn't bother you to be friends and only friends with the guy?"

"Not at all. I'm too independent to lose sleep over that one, and I'll bet Dave is also."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Howie is going to apologize to Dave tomorrow," Sean predicted. "He's bummed out because he thinks Dave is a great guy. The fact that, if he got Dave mad enough, Dave could very-well flatten him if he wanted to doesn't really figure into this. Howie is too accustomed to being the target of jocks; taking a beating is pretty-much second-nature to him. He's just bummed that he pissed Dave off."

"I'm gonna give Dave a call after I get off the phone with you. See what kinda damage-control I can accomplish. We talked a little last night after we left the party."

"What about?"

"Mostly the reasons behind why Howie's comment bothered him. Well, it started that way."

"Where did it end?"

"Mostly guilt-feelings about some stuff at his old school. I wouldn't really feel right getting into specifics here, though; save to say that Dave's a thinker, and he might be over-thinking stuff. Actually, he was pretty into seeing my mom's art studio also. I almost forgot about that part."

A short span of silence passed. "Hey, Gretch, I'm gonna get going," Sean said finally. "Folks will be in later this afternoon, and I gotta make it looked like I didn't have a party last night."

"Okay. Do you need me to come over and help you clean up?"

"No, but thanks. Really not much of a mess. Just gotta get rid of the empties and vacuum. We kept everything contained to the basement, so it's pretty-much a one-man job."

"Alright, then, see you in school tomorrow, Sean."

"Yep, have a good rest-of-the-day, Gretch. Bye."

"Goodbye, Sean"

Gretchen ended the call with Sean, found Dave on her contacts list, and tapped the call icon. She heard the ring on the other end: once, twice, three times; she lost count by the time she heard a recorded voice: _You've reached the voicemail of Dave Karofsky, you lucky dog. Leave a message and I'll return your call when I can. Later._

Gretchen grinned wide at the message. "Hey, Dave. It's Gretchen, just calling to see what you're up to today. I owe you a thump to the noggin for referring to me as a 'lucky dog' on your outgoing message, so be ready for that. You can give me a call back or, if you don't, I'll just catch you tomorrow at school. Smooches."

 

* * *

  

Online chat, Sunday October 16

comradeK: _hello. thank you for responding to my ad._

rogeroh: _You're welcome. Did many people respond?_

comradeK: _i got several responses. most of them weren't serious. some of them were kinda graphic and creeped me out. some of them were mean-spirited. you and maybe three others seemed like serious responses._

rogeroh: _It's good that you did get some serious responses, although I'd think there are other places you might have thought to look for help on this matter._

comradeK: _i know there are, but i am uncomfortable about doing anything like this publicly. the local branch of osu has monthly pflag meetings, but i'm honestly afraid to be seen going to them._

rogeroh: _I don't know what help I could be then. You said that you wanted help with coming out, but you sound like you're very afraid to actually be out._

comradeK: _i thought maybe just chatting with some people about their experiences might help me get to a point where i could take the next step and be more public._

rogeroh: _I understand. I am a lot older than you are, though. Things are very different now than they were when I was your age. My name is Roger, btw._

comradeK: _dave here. nice to meet you, roger. how old are you?_

rogeroh: _I'm 66._

comradeK: _i'm sure a lot has changed. that doesn't make my situation any easier from where i stand, tho._

rogeroh: _I'm not going to be the bitter old man and say that things were so much harder for me and things are so much easier for your generation. This conversation wouldn't be happening if this was easy. You won't need to deal with some of the things I dealt with, but there may be some things that you deal with that would make it harder for you that I never had to deal with. I don't think the prejudices will ever go away fully._

comradeK: _so, tell me about your experience, if you don't mind._

rogeroh: _If my story can help anyone, I'll gladly tell it. I grew up in the 1950s. Generally, it was considered to be a very liberating time with sweeping changes in culture which would come to fruition in the 1960s and 70s. Homosexuality, though, was considered to be a disorder at the time. My parents became concerned about me when I was about ten years old._

comradeK: _why is that?_

rogeroh: _I wasn't the most masculine kid. I was quiet, and most of my friends were girls. I didn't play with other boys much after school. I did have some good male friends in school, but, while they were all out doing "boy things" like playing ball, I was more interested in reading and writing. So, my parents signed me up for various "boy" activities like youth baseball leagues and scouts. I still didn't make any real friends and I wasn't athletically-inclined so it failed on both fronts. I was a good student, though, especially in English, because I read a great deal and wrote well._

comradeK: _you do write very well if this chat is any indication._

rogeroh: _Thank you, Dave. At any rate, my parents were concerned and took me to a psychiatrist when I was fourteen. They put me through a battery of psychological exams of all sorts and came to the conclusion that I was likely to have homsexual tendencies. Under the doctor's guidance, my parents forbade me to see or associate with my female friends. They were about the only real friends I had outside of school. My parents made friends with other boys' parents and tried to get me involved in being more social with boys and doing more "boy things". That didn't work either. The boys didn't really like me and were sometimes abusive with me._

comradeK: _how do you mean?_

rogeroh: _Well, one example, one of the parents had organized a day when we all went out to a local park with our bicycles one Sunday morning. One of the other kids, one who was much bigger than me, took my bike from me. When confronted, his friends backed up his story saying that it was his bike all along, and the parents who organized the event believed him and the other boys. I returned home without my bike and told my parents what happened, and they reprimanded me for letting it happen, for not being "man enough" to prevent it from happening._

comradeK: _that's terrible._

rogeroh: _That's just one example. At any rate, when I was 16, my parents came to the conclusion that none of the "remedies" they were using was working, so they signed for me to undergo electroshock._

comradeK: _that was pretty standard back in the 50s._

rogeroh: _Years later, I'd meet other men who underwent the same thing when they were my age._

comradeK: _so, when exactly did you come out? or aren't you out?_

rogeroh: _As far as the rest of the world was concerned, I was out when I was twelve. I began identifying myself as "gay" when I was in college. That wasn't easy either. I would be assaulted on a fairly regular basis if I was seen coming from a gay bar late at night._

comradeK: _you could get into the bars?_

rogeroh: _The drinking age was 18 back then._

comradeK: _where did you go to college?_

rogeroh: _Case Western in Cleveland._

comradeK: _are you originally from lima?_

rogeroh: _Yes, I lived in Cleveland for some years after I graduated. It was the late 60s by then._

comradeK: _so, you were out at that point?_

rogeroh: _We really didn't call it "out" back in those days. It was something that people knew and understood about me, but it wasn't something that any of us advertised. There were famous and important authors, artists, and musicians that everybody knew were gay, but you'd never hear that word used. In fact, there were times when a famous gay person successfully sued people in the news media for referring to them as gay in print. Things have come a long way, really._

comradeK: _i can see that. i did some research over the last summer._

rogeroh: _By the late 70s, you began to see it more and more in the media. Some people identified themselves as gay in public and the media. The 80s may have taken a step backward, but the 90s saw gays being allowed to serve in the military under DADT and many celebrities coming out publicly. The idea of being out was becoming to be seen as beneficial to the community. The more the public saw that being gay was not a lifestyle choice but an inseparable quality of each individual, the more tolerant they became._

comradeK: _but, then, most people believe DADT to be a failed policy, right?_

rogeroh: _I don't! Absolutely not! Before DADT, gays were not allowed in the military at all. At worst, it was meant to be a temporary measure until such a time came when serving openly would be tolerated. That time has arrived, and DADT was repealed, but until that time came, it opened up avenues which were previously unavailable to gay individuals._

comradeK: _i see. i hadn't considered that._

rogeroh: _That's something which might only occur to someone with the perspective that living through several decades has given them._

comradeK: _you live in lima now, i take it?_

rogeroh: _Yes, I returned to Lima back in the 1990s when my dad got sick. I wanted to be close to my parents. They were getting old, and I wasn't getting any younger. Eventually, I ended up taking care of my mother once my dad passed away._

comradeK: _did you have a partner?_

rogeroh: _I had a couple of different partners at different times. Since I have been back in Lima, no, I haven't had any partners. I have several great friends, though._

There was a long pause.

rogeroh: _Are you still there, Dave?_

comradeK: _yes, still here, sorry. just thinking about what I want to say._

Another pause.

comradeK: _so, where do you associate with other gay men in lima?_

rogeroh: _Oh, the friends I have get together once in a while for dinners and parties. Nothing too crazy, not at our age._

comradeK: _do you go onto greggslist often?_

rogeroh: _I'd be lying if I said I didn't, but I usually just look at the pictures._

comradeK: _and i'd be lying if i said the pictures didn't kinda creep me out sometimes._

rogeroh: _Sometimes I go out at Scandals. I have a few friends who are regulars there._

comradeK: _what's scandals?_

rogeroh: _It's a gay bar in West Lima. It's gone through several owners, remodelings, and name-changes over the years, but it's always been there in one form or another. I never knew about it until I returned to Lima in the 1990s. Apparently, it was there even before I was born. At that time and probably through the 1980s, it was an unmarked building with no sign. A passerby would not have even known it was a bar. Gay bars of past decades were intentionally inconspicuous that way. The last thing they wanted was attention._

comradeK: _i had no idea that there was such a place in lima._

rogeroh: _I don't go there often. Sometimes I just want to get out of the house, and if my friends are busy or not around, I'll stop in for a couple of drinks. I almost always run into an old acquaintance._

comradeK: _when you came back to lima, did your parents know you were gay at that time?_

rogeroh: _I can't imagine them not knowing. I never told them in so many words, but I'm sure it's one of those unspoken things which they understood on some level. Now, dad has passed on and mom, though healthy, is quite old. I can't see a point in bringing it up now, honestly._

comradeK: _from some things i've read, there are people who would disagree with you._

rogeroh: _Well, they're not me._

There was a long pause again.

rogeroh: _Can you tell me something about yourself, Dave?_

Another pause.

comradeK: _sure. what do you want to know?_

rogeroh: _Well, I know from the ad you placed that you're eighteen years old. Other than that, I know nothing about you. Like, what kinds of things are you interested in? What kind of guy are you? Things like that._

comradeK: _well, i am a high school student in my senior year, i'm on the football team, though the season ended a couple of days ago, i love sports of all kinds, especially football and hockey, i have an eclectic group of friends, mostly smart kids, i plan to go to college for something math/science related, i'm not out to my parents or anyone really. anything else you'd like to know?_

rogeroh: _That's about what I had in mind. Are you kind-of athletic then?_

comradeK: _yes, you could say that. my friends are diverse, but, until this last year, most of my friends were guys on the teams i was on. i'm happier since i expanded my group of friends._

rogeroh: _I'd imagine that spending time with the football team members might have not been terribly conducive to your own understanding of yourself._

comradeK: _it wasn't. it was kinda messing me up. i still have work to do, but i've come a long way since last spring._

rogeroh: _Do you know anyone who is out?_

comradeK: _there was this one guy at my old school. he was my age. and there was a guy that he used to hang around with._

rogeroh: _Did you ever talk with either of them about coming out?_

comradeK: _only what they would kinda force on me. i really wasn't ready for that at the time._

rogeroh: _They knew then? You came out to them?_

comradeK: _oh, i forgot about that before when i said that i wasn't out to anyone. it's a weird thing, the way they came to know. i kinda revealed myself to one of them, and he told the other. it made the rest of my time at that school somewhat difficult for me. speaking of, I really should get to my school work. thank you for chatting with me, roger._

rogeroh: _You are most welcome. I hope this chat has done you some good, Dave. You can email me any time if you want to talk or have a question or simply want to say hello._

comradeK: _thank you again, roger. have a good day._

rogeroh: _You do the same, Dave. Goodbye._

 

* * *

  

Gretchen's phone sounded a text notification.

Dave: _Hey, sorry I haven't had the chance to call, but I did get your message._ 8:52 PM

Gretchen: _No problem. Busy day?_ 8:55 PM

Dave: _Some school work, spending time with the parents. That's about all._ 8:57 PM

Gretchen: _Can I call?_ 8:58 PM

Dave: _Sure._ 8:58 PM

Dave's phone rang within thirty seconds after he tapped the button to send his last text message. "Hi, Gretchen," Dave sounded cheerful and pleasant.

"Hey, Dave. You sound enthusiastic."

"It's always good to hear from you, whether I sound like it or not."

"Oh, yeah?" Gretchen teased. "I talked to Sean earlier."

"Oh, yeah?" Dave's version sounding quieter and more wary than Gretchen's. "How'd that go?"

"They're really bummed that you left the party early last night. Howie especially."

"I'm bummed too. Maybe I overreacted, but I can't apologize to Howie for what I said."

"Dave, none of them are expecting that you apologize to anyone. They really like having you as a friend; and you know what's really amazing? You've stuck your neck out for a few of them, and they don't even know about most of that stuff."

"Yeah, I know. That's kinda how I want it."

"I know. That's why I never told Howie about how you saved him from getting saturated with root beer. He likes you regardless, no, _clueless_ of the fact that you've been covertly watching out for them. All of those guys do."

Dave smiled. "Well, I'm just doing right by them, and you actually have an idea why. Maybe I'm trying to avoid getting knocked in the head with steaming heap of instant karma, as the song says."

Gretchen laughed. "You believe in karma?" she asked sincerely.

"I think there's a tendency to believe that things all even-out in the end. If nothing else, it's like poetic justice or something. Do I believe in it as, like, a formal belief? I don't know. I don't think so."

"Well," Gretchen responded, "I do have some school work to do myself, and I don't want to be up until midnight doing it, so I'm going to get going."

"Alright," Dave smiled into the phone, "see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, and goodnight, Dave."

"Goodnight, Gretchen."

Dave ended the call and brought up a search page on his laptop screen. He typed "scandals lima ohio" into the field and clicked. He was rewarded with an address and a map immediately.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 7,900

**Chapter 11**

 

**Tuesday February 28**

**One week after David's suicide attempt**

"Okay, I'm off to the office for a while," Paul called out to David as he put on his coat. "Do you need anything before I leave?"

David approached him with a subtle smile on his face. "No, Dad, I'm good. The tutor is supposed to be here at ten o'clock."

"That's a couple of hours from now, David." There was a pause. Paul realized that his tendency to be protective of David might be a little much. He wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to leave David by himself or if he didn't want to go without the reassurance of David being nearby for a few hours. "I should be back by one," he finally said, weakly.

"Do you want me to text you every ten minutes like I said yesterday?" David said with a wider smile than before. "I'll do that if it'll make you feel better, Dad."

Paul looked up. David's smile was reassuring in itself, enough for that moment as far as Paul's uncertainty was concerned. "Come here, please." David approached his father, and Paul's arms enfolded David; David wrapped his arms around Paul firmly. "Just text me about every half-hour or hour or something," Paul said through a relieved laugh. "And if you do need anything, let me know."

As the two unlocked, David patted his dad's shoulders. He was smiling, nodding. "I'm pretty sure I'll be okay, but I will let you know if I want you to pick me up a sandwich or something."

At that, Paul smiled. "Are you ready for one of those Italian subs? That can be dinner if you are."

"Why don't you just call me when you're done at the office, and I'll let you know then."

Paul turned, grabbed his briefcase, and opened the door to the basement, descending the stairs. David heard the garage door open as he moved to a window, watching his dad's car move from the garage, down the driveway, and toward the road. He saw his dad turn his head to look at something, presumably something in the back seat of the car, then turn his head toward the road and exit the driveway.

David had a phone call to make. He wanted to arrange to have Sean clean out his locker and bring his books and belongings with him when he came that afternoon. After that, he'd probably fill in the remaining time on the weight bench in the basement. It had been days since he even thought about that sort of physical activity, but he felt more-than up for it at the moment.

 

* * *

  

"You're going to visit Karofsky _again_?" Blaine's question sounded incredulous.

"We've been through this," Kurt said. "It does him good to know that he's not alone. Besides, I volunteered to take care of his Facebook profile tonight. I wouldn't want him to do that on his own, not with all of those vicious comments still on his wall."

Blaine let out a huff of disapproval.

"C'mon, Blaine. You and I don't have plans tonight. You said yourself that you had a ton of homework and other things you wanted to work on."

Blaine hunched, stuck out his jaw, and looked forward, stern: silent pout.

"You _do_ know that, if you wanted to do _anything_ this evening, no matter how frivolous, you would take precedence over David, _right_?" Kurt offered, somewhat stern in itself.

Blaine turned to Kurt, his expression softened. "Yeah. I _know_ that. And I don't know why it's bothering me. But it is. Maybe I just don't want you to spread yourself out too thin. It's been a stressful time: Regionals, getting our act together for Nationals, all your school stuff, Finn and Rachel, Quinn, and, yeah, Karofsky. I know you're feeling all that stress, and you haven't given yourself any kind of break."

"You know how energetic I am, Blaine. You _know_ that I don't do so well with down-time. I'd just end up wasting hours reading gossip blogs and giving a damn about people I'll never even know or something equally superficial. And then bending your ear or distracting Mercedes about it. At least this is making a difference I can actually see."

Blaine smiled and nodded, looking into Kurt's eyes. "I love you, Kurt. Even if this is bothering me, it underscores some of the many reasons why I do love you."

Kurt smiled and drew Blaine in for a quick kiss, pulling away before anyone else in the school library had a chance to notice. "I love you too, Blaine."

 

* * *

  

The doorbell rang just as Paul and David finished collecting their empty plates after eating an early dinner. David had commented that his favorite subs were even better than he'd remembered; for his part, Paul was happy to enjoy this simple pleasure with David, the kind of thing which would have been taken for granted only a few weeks prior, sandwiches inhaled while the two watched NFL games together in the gameroom. The warmth of these simple luxuries seemed irreversibly changed by recent events.

"That's probably Sean. I'll go get the door." David exited the kitchen toward the direction of the front door; Paul followed a few steps behind.

"Hey, Dave," Sean stood smiling in the late-afternoon February sun, growing golden and dimmer by the minute.

David smiled but was taken aback as he welcomed Sean into the entryway, noticing a small but dark purplish bruise at Sean's right temple. "Hi. Thanks for coming over with my stuff." David took hold of a backpack stuffed to capacity as Sean handed it off to him.

"Sean, meet my dad. Dad, this is my friend Sean."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Karofsky."

Paul extended his hand, Sean took it firmly and gave it a welcoming shake. "Nice to meet you also, Sean."

"Wanna follow me up to my room, Sean? I wanna drop this stuff off, and, hopefully, you can get me up to speed on things."

"Sure, Dave. Lead the way." Sean let go of Paul's handshake, smiling. Paul smiled back, giving a slight wave as the two boys ascended the staircase.

"What happened to _you_?" David asked, once behind the closed bedroom door.

"What? Oh, the _face_? I got roughed up a little," Sean replied. "Some of the guys on the football team apparently weren't too keen on me defending you on Facebook."

David's face took on an expression of visible hurt. A few seconds of silence passed.

Sean shook his head. "Listen, Dave. What happened to you was wrong. _Wrong_. I took a few knocks for you; I'd gladly take more."

"Shouldn't hafta do that." David looked down, serious and silent, shaking his head.

"Johnno's been looking out after me," Sean continues. "He and Randy have been asking about you..."

"Fuck them," David spat, cutting Sean off in mid-sentence. "They were there when I was chased out of that locker room. They did _nothing_. They just stood there and _watched_."

"If it's any consolation, Dave, Johnno dropped all of his extra-curricular sports activities," Sean explained. "He said he couldn't even pretend to get along with those guys, not after what happened. He's been sitting with us at lunch. He's a really nice guy."

"Okay, maybe Johnno's alright. It's a very small consolation, though," David finally answered. "Let's change the subject?"

Sean seated himself on the wooden trunk and David sat at his desk chair, opening the backpack and removing its contents, one handful of books at a time.

"Your locker was, like immaculate and orderly," Sean offered. Dave grinned back, remembering the chaotic mess that is Sean's locker. "That's the entire contents," Sean said, omitting the dozen-or-so pieces of notebook paper which had been stuffed into David's locker through the ventilation slots, pages which bore malicious messages. Sean had discarded those hours ago.

"I met with my tutor today," David informed Sean. "He had touched base with all of my teachers. They were all really cool with him except Mr. McCarthy. Rupert, that's my tutor, said that McCarthy wanted to fail me. He didn't care about the reasons why I was opting out of class."

"That's fucked-up." Sean commented. "I knew McCarthy was an asshole teacher, but I didn't know he'd take it to a personal level. Do you have any options? Is he even _allowed_ to do that?"

"McCarthy is just another guy who was a jock in high school and not skilled enough to go further with it so he ends up being fat and bitter," David offered. "No love lost, believe me. Euthanize me if you ever see me going in that direction, please," David's gallows humor actually achieving a smirk out of Sean. "The good news on that front is that it's an AP class. Technically, it's all standardized. If I bypass the lessons and still do well on the AP exam, I'm good to go. Since I'm a whiz at Physics, I think I'll be alright. There is the problem of the lack of an actual letter-grade bringing my grade-average down, though. Rupert is going to see if another teacher will take me on for the rest of the semester. Luckily, it's still early enough to do that."

"Still the same Dave," Sean smiled. "I like it."

"I've been at my worst point. Nowhere to go now except up. And, yeah, I can't be anyone else. I can't allow this mess to change me. If I do, I've let them win on some level."

Sean smiled and nodded approval.

"Mr. Williams called today also," David added. "He wants to touch base with me on my History project. That's the majority of my grade in that class, so I need to make sure it's solid."

Sean nodded. "Williams even asked me about you. He was glad to know that I was talking to you and that you were okay."

"Hey, Kurt's coming over later," David changed the subject. "Hopefully you can meet him."

"I'd like to meet him," Sean answered enthusiastically. "We spoke on the phone a few times. I think I rubbed him the wrong way at first. He said he'd hunt me down and kill me if I said anything disparaging to you."

David rolled his eyes knowingly and smirked at the revelation, "That's our Kurt." David smiled wide, shaking his head. "What did you say to offend him so?" sarcastic at the last.

"It's kinda complicated," Sean explained. "I'll tell you, but you've gotta promise not to take offense. I was freaked out as hell when I said it."

David shook his head and held up both of his both of his hands as if to signal he wouldn't harm anyone.  
  
Sean began. "I said that, before I found out that you're gay, I just had this impression that you were a normal guy. That really set Kurt off. He read me the riot act in a way I haven't been scolded since I was, like, five years old or something." David actually laughed at that; Sean continued. "I mean, I _know_ you're normal, and that's not what I meant at all."

David shook his head. "No, it's cool. I'm just getting a kick out of imagining how Kurt would have reacted to that. I've seen his vicious tirades in action. He's not a physically threatening guy in the least, but he can verbally crucify in a way few others are capable."

"It started out when I said that finding out you're gay was 'disappointing'. That didn't go over well with Kurt at all. Then the 'normal' comment and he went all wheezy and amphetamine on me."

David's face went serious. "How was it _disappointing_?"

"Ah, it just was," Sean mumbled. "I guess I had these ideas of how you and Gretch would make a great couple and..."

David cut Sean off. "Alright, now that just pisses me off. Everyone on the team was congratulating me for 'nailing' her, my parents were bugging me to have her over for Thanksgiving and then bugging me about what I was getting her for Christmas with these delusions that Gretchen and I were going out, and now you tell me you were thinking the same. Gretchen and I were both great with being friends, dammit."

"I know, I know. I talked with her about it," Sean defended.

"Can't anyone conceive of me or Gretchen being mature enough to decide what we want and what we are?" David was nearly raising his voice. "That's why I became so fucking scarce: everybody was trying to make me and Gretchen into something we weren't. It was killing me to distance myself from this amazing friend, and it was killing her."

An uncomfortable silence manifested thick.

David spoke finally. "If it was so important that Gretchen be attached, why not you? You're obviously closer to her than I was. Why aren't _you_ her boyfriend?"

More silence. " _Well?_ " David demanded.

"Ah..." Sean finally spoke, quietly, "for the same reason why you couldn't be her boyfriend." Sean paused. "I can't say it in so many words beyond that."

David's face went from anger to sadness. He spoke quietly, measured. "Fuck. I'm sorry if I went off on you just now." David sat next to Sean on the wood trunk.

"It's okay, Dave. I was out of line."

David offered his hand to Sean, and Sean took it. David spoke, "does anyone know besides me?"

Sean, silent, just shook his head.

"It doesn't go beyond this room. You have my word on that." He put his arm around Sean. David felt like crying, but he wouldn't allow himself. Sean had just admitted something huge, and David felt it was his place to be strong if that's what Sean needed. David looked closely at Sean as Sean faced forward, eyes fixed to the floor. David considered the bruise at Sean's temple, noticing that the skin was broken and scabbed under his eyebrow. "Wow, they hit you hard," David commented, touching the bruise softly with his thumb.

Sean shook his head. "Someone grabbed me by the back of my neck and shoved me, face-first, into my locker door. I never saw which one it was. There was about five of them in a group. I'm just glad it didn't go into a black eye. That's _so_ grade-school." It was an attempt at humor, but David couldn't laugh.

The two sat in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Sean broke the silence after a few minutes, looking around the room.

"Your bedroom is really great. Mine's about a third this size."

"Thank you, Sean," David responded. "I guess it's one of the benefits of being an only child. I get the second-best bedroom in the house."

"So, I'm curious," Sean changed the subject. "Were _you_ ever the target of one of your friend Kurt's verbal attacks?"

" _Ohhhhh_ , yes," David smiled, glad to be able to smile. " _Many_ times and as many variations. There's the catty, 'I'm looking right through you' version, which is more visual than verbal. There's the slow, smoldering single phrase followed by a silence that's almost sickening. There's the almost-whispered, murdering suggestion that smacks of conceit. There's the one where he made an observation that was so blunt, so honest, that I broke down in tears. And _then_ there was the one, _classic_ Kurt, where he was hurling words, rapid-fire, like an oral version of a machine-gun inches from my face, his index finger pointing at my nose, my fist up, ready to hit him..."

Sean snickered. "Oh geeze! What did you do?"

David looked downward, head nodding slightly, grinning slightly, an expression of resigned futility. With a shrug, he spoke one notch above a whisper. "I kissed him."

Sean's eyes popped in surprise, no words.

David just laughed futile again and defeated. "I mean, what was I _gonna_ do?" There was a pause. "It worked, I guess. Ended that conversation. Fucked up both of our heads for a few months."

At a loss for any other reaction, both boys laughed, nervous.

Night was falling quickly, and the room was darkening. David stood up and turned on the lamp on his nightstand and his desk lamp. There was a short, quiet knock at the door followed by a voice: "David?"

"Speak of the devil, it's Kurt," David informed Sean, then called to the closed door, "C'mon in, Kurt."

Sean stood as Kurt opened the door and entered the bedroom. Kurt looked up and around, "hey, nice bedroom, David."

"Thank you, Kurt. Kurt, meet Sean; Sean, Kurt."

Kurt smiled politely but with an aloof air, ever-so-Kurt; and extended his hand to shake Sean's. Sean smiled and shook Kurt's hand.

"Make yourselves comfortable," David advised. "Can I get either of you anything to drink? Soda? Coffee?"

"What kind of soda do you have?" asked Sean.

"Root beer. Cola. Ginger ale. Stuff like that."

"Would it be too much trouble to get a cup of coffee?" Kurt asked?

"Not at all," David answered. "I'll get that going right now. How do you like it?"

Kurt shrugged and smiled wide. "Heavy on the cream; a little sugar."

"Root beer sounds good for me, Dave," Sean added.

"Okay, you two get acquainted. I'll be back in a few." With that, David exited the room.

Kurt had a seat at David's desk while Sean sat down again on the wooden trunk where he had been sitting before, reclining slightly toward the bed. Kurt eyed the stack of books which David had piled there after emptying the backpack.

"I brought all of Dave's stuff from his locker at school today." Kurt nodded. Sean added, "There were a bunch of nasty notes stuffed into his locker by anonymous assholes, but Dave doesn't need to know about those."

"So where are they?" Kurt inquired, a look of concern on his face.

"I threw them away hours ago."

Kurt nodded approval. "Good call." Kurt continued,"have you been here long?"

"For about an hour?" Sean guessed, shrugging.

"David seems to be in good spirits. He's probably very glad to see you and talk with you." With that Kurt smiled reassuringly at Sean.

"Well, I'm very glad to see him and to know he's okay. And to know that he hasn't completely lost his sense of humor. He's funny as heck."

Kurt smiled wider and nodded. "I told him that last night. He did have me laughing. I thought that visiting him right now was going to be difficult, and some of the stuff we talked about was pretty heavy; but being able to see that he's doing okay was rewarding, and his being able to make me laugh was the unexpected icing on the cake." Kurt embellished the last comment with a dramatic facial expression and a hand gesture.

Kurt continued. "You have other friends who want to see David?"

"Yeah, several people. A couple of them, Dave doesn't really wanna see, though. I gotta figure out how I'm gonna handle that when I talk to them." 

Kurt nodded, a suspicious look on his face. "There was a time when David would have wanted to talk to me, but I wouldn't have wanted that." Sean nodded, not wanting details, however. Kurt continued, "Thing is, though, we _did_ talk and it's good for both of us that we did." Sean nodded more agreeably.

David re-entered the room carrying a tray with several items on it. He cleared a space on his desk near Kurt and set the tray down. Kurt looked up at David, smiling. On the tray were two mugs of coffee, along with a creamer and a sugar bowl; and the root beer was in a frosted beer mug with a straw poking out of the foam.

"Such a thorough host you are, David," Kurt complimented.

"I didn't want to get your coffee wrong, so I thought I'd let you do it up the way you like it," David responded, lifting the root beer and handing it over to Sean. Sean smiled at the consideration of the straw and frosted mug. After Kurt dressed his coffee, David added sugar and cream to his mug of coffee also and took a seat at the far side of the room in a chair by his nightstand.

"So," David spoke. "what common ground can the three of us find so that we can have a nice conversation?"

The three looked to each other blankly for about thirty seconds, back and forth, eyes glancing from one to the other to the other until Kurt finally said, "How about us talking about what our proudest moments ever were?"

David and Sean nodded agreeably, though none seemed terribly enthusiastic to start. "Okay, my idea, so I'll begin. The McKinley High New Directions show choir, which _I_ am a part of, won our Regional competition last weekend. This is the first time I was involved with a show choir that won a Regional competition, so I'm pretty proud of that. I also had a proud moment when I convinced the ultra-rigid Dalton Warblers to feature a duet in last year's Regional competition. Unfortunately, the McKinley New Directions beat out the Dalton Warblers at that one. That was more-of a personal victory. I'm hoping to have those proudest moments replaced by a couple of better ones in the coming weeks."

"I was pretty proud when the McKinley High football team won our championship game last year," David contributed. "It was a weird game and an unusual week for all of us, but we pulled it together."

"Ooh, I was there!" Kurt interjected. "I remember that!"

David smiled back at Kurt.

"Okay," Sean began, "I'm, by-far winning the nerd-award on this one." David chuckled, Kurt just appeared puzzled. "I won a first-place for a statewide science fair project last year, a first-place for a borough-wide science fair project when I was a sophomore, and our team from Thurston won a D and D competition last year."

David shook his head in disbelief. "Thurston has a D and D team? Weirder yet, they have organized competitions?"

Sean laughed. "Yeah, it's kinda like a chess club, except that the teams get formed when they hear that a competition is happening. Some teams go all-out in preparing for it, like we did. The major downer about that competition was, even though we won, the dungeonmaster killed my character off in the last few minutes of the game. He said he just wanted to do something crazy and harsh and I just happened to be the victim. The team still won the competition, though."

Kurt was smiling, enjoying the interaction. "What were your science fair projects about?"

"The one I did last year was a stream-study. I ran tests on water in a stream before and after it had treated wastewater added to it. The one from a couple of years ago was about sound-levels in the school hallways on different days of the week. Could have been just as much a behavioral study as anything truly scientific."

"Y'know," David began, "as much as science interests me, and I am good at it, I've never done anything like that."

"It's time-consuming," Sean added. "If you have any kind of social life, it's a given that you'd have better things to do."

David smirked. "Or if the dumb jocks you hang out with have you convinced that it's uncool, you affect a dumbed-down persona."

Sean chuckled. Kurt smiled and nodded silently: politely silent.

"Hey," David interjected, "Kurt, didn't the New Directions go to New York last year?"

" _Yesss_ ," Kurt strung the syllable out, sounding particularly annoyed at the memory, "The Nationals competition in which we didn't even place due to a _protocol_ issue."

"New York?" Sean added. "That sounds exciting, at least."

"Well, being in New York was great. It convinced me that New York is where I need to be. The competition, though: _disaster_."

David looked puzzled. "Disaster? Why? What happened?"

"Oh, my stepbrother, love him to death, but sometimes I just wanna shake him." Kurt continued. "He and his now-fiancée Rachel were on the outs and he was all messed-up over it, and, in the heat of the moment, kissed her during their big duet performance. It was considered an outrage, an extreme breach of etiquette."

David was smirking, slyly. "Wait, wait, I never heard about that. Finn kissed Rachel on stage, and _that_ lost the competition for you guys?"

Kurt rolled his eyes melodramatically, "Yes, that's what happened."

Sean shook his head in disbelief. "I have zero such soap-opera action in my life."

"But it sounds kinda awesome," David remarked smiling. "I mean, they're engaged now."

Kurt shot an accusing grin at David. " _You_ are a _hopeless romantic_ , David Karofsky."

David looked away, blushing, still grinning widely, then he turned back at Kurt saying, "I still say it sounds amazing; and when you think about it, it's pretty confrontational, like a 'fuck authority' attitude."

"I hate to cut when the fun's just beginning," Sean interrupted, "but I really should get going; I have a ton of work to do at home."

"Okay Sean, I'll show you to the door," David said as all three boys stood.

Sean extended his hand to Kurt who shook it, "nice to meet you, Kurt."

"Nice meeting you also, Sean," Kurt said, smiling wide. "We all should get together again."

Dave exited the room and led Sean down the stairs as Kurt looked around David's bedroom. On a bookshelf something caught Kurt's eye. He studied it briefly before David returned with another mug of coffee.

"More coffee, Kurt?"

"No thank you, David. What is this?" Kurt tilted his head quizzically as he held up the folder containing the photo of David and Gretchen.

David smiled wistfully as he sat down on the edge of his bed, reclining slightly, "That's Gretchen and me at the homecoming dance."

"David, you look... _incredible_. Well, both of you do, but..." Kurt seemed at a loss.

"But you didn't think I was capable of looking that..." David smiled sarcastically, gesturing with his hands, "... _whatever_ , right?"

"It just...never occurred to me, David. You're somehow channeling the Rat Pack without all the baggage of alcoholism and organized crime, and Gretchen looks...straight out of...Erte"

"Gretchen came up with what I'm wearing, and, yeah, I think she was after something like a nice-guy version of the Rat Pack. Gretchen, though, is more Man Ray than Erte, I'd say."

Kurt shot David an incredulous look, not quite believing what he just he just heard come from David's mouth, let alone that it came out like a playful rhyme. "How much did that outfit set you back, David?"

"It was under a hundred. Most expensive thing was the shoes."

"Well, it all looks great together, and it works for you, definitely."

"Gretchen has a talent for that, and I can deal with her approach. She does the same for Sean and her other friends. This one guy, Howie, you'd think he's totally hopeless, but she had him looking great."

"So maybe you and I should go out clothes-shopping sometime. I never considered the fashion-potential of David Karofsky."

David shook his head. "Ah, I'd be afraid."

Kurt grimaced comically. " _Seriously_?"

"Listen," David began. "You look great in all of that fashionable stuff. It works on you: perfectly tailored-suits, shiny accessories, sweaters which end in crazy, dynamic, diagonal lines. Could you imagine how ridiculous I'd look in any of that, not to mention how uncomfortable I'd feel?"

"But it's high fashion, David."

"But, see, Gretchen's approach is somehow the antithesis of that, and she knew to put together something I'd be comfortable wearing. Shouldn't that figure into fashion also?"

Kurt considered the statement. It somehow never occurred to him.

David furthered. "If high fashion works for you, great. Part of me feels like the whole fashion thing is some gay-community ruse upon straight society." Kurt shot an uncertain look in David's direction: this discussion was messing with Kurt's reality on some level. David continued. "You can lump things like interior design in with that also, maybe to a lesser degree. Making a confrontational aesthetic statement is great, kinda like Finn kissing Rachel on the stage at the National competition; but doing it just because some self-appointed expert dictates a trend is the opposite of confrontation: it's conformity."

Kurt's expression mellowed to a thoughtful-if-slighlty-troubled one as he pondered David's statements, finally shaking his head and saying, jokingly, "David, are you sure you're gay?"

David smiled back and laughed. "Why do you think I've had such a difficult time with this, Kurt? I apparently never got my copy of _Gay for Dummies_ when they were being handed out. The stereotypes which the media and society force-feed us are obsessed with celebrity gossip, hair-care products, and divas. I have very little interest in any of those things. I have nothing against them, but, given the choice, I'd rather read about the lives of Harvey Milk and Alan Turing than Elizabeth Taylor and Bette Davis."

"Alan... _who_...?" Kurt cocked his head, an expression of intrigue on his face.

"Alan Turing," David repeated. A few moments of silence passed until David broke the quiet. "Okay, if you're going to be gay, you simply _must_ know who that is."

Kurt's jaw dropped, remembering having said the same sentence to David at some point in reference to Eve Harrington, possibly. For his part, David straightened from his reclining position and smiled a crooked smile back a Kurt, all but verbalizing the word 'gotcha'.

"Alan Turing was a father of computer science," David explained. "He was also a codebreaker and probably an essential part of the allied victory during World War II. When it was discovered that he was a homosexual, he was tried and convicted of indecency; his punishment was chemical castration. This happened in the 1950s, not really that long ago; and it happened in England, not some backward, uncivilized place." Kurt listened, rapt. David continued, "Being a follower of Elton John's shoe collection is all well-and-good, but there's some other important stuff that maybe all of us should be aware of."

Kurt nodded, understanding David more by the moment. "I'm impressed, David, and I'm humbled. I can see that you have been educating yourself, and it suits you."

"I'm working on it. I wanna be smart. Scary-smart. Dangerous-smart."

Kurt smiled back, admiring.

"But it extends to other things also," David continued. "I not so big a fan of dance music. I mean it's okay, but I listen to rock music and stuff like that." David paused for a moment. "I can never figure out why the gay community idolizes music by straight women when people like Rob Halford have been making music for decades."

"Okay, David, you're hitting me with new names here," Kurt commented quietly. "Explain, please."

"Rob Halford is the singer for this 80s metal band called Judas Priest. He came out in the late 1990s, but, I mean, anyone who saw him before that and couldn't figure out that he was gay would hafta be pretty dim. And he has an awesome voice, well, at least it sounds pretty incredible to my ears; they're probably less discriminating than your ears are."

"I think we might need to check into that later tonight, or you could send me some youtube links," Kurt said. "Metal's not really my thing, but now you've got me curious."

"Oh, I meant to mention," Kurt changed the subject, "Sean seems like a really nice guy."

"Yeah," David replied. "We hit it off right from the start, first day of school. I met Gretchen and some other friends through him."

"He told me that there were some people you don't want to see."

"Uh, yeah. Guys who were on the team who stood by and did nothing when things went bad for me." David looked down at the floor, avoiding Kurt's face.

"Well, do you think they regret not standing up for you?"

"I dunno. It doesn't really matter, damage is done. They were complicit through their silence as far as I am concerned."

"I think it kinda does matter, David. They maybe deserve a second chance." David continued to look at the floor. Kurt continued. "Consider how many second chances you've had, ones _I've_ given you. You remarked that you thought that maybe you'd messed up your friendship with Sean, but he seems more-than-accepting of you."

David looked up at Kurt and spoke, voice shaky. "Yeah, you're maybe right." He paused, feeling his eyes fill with tears. "Dammit."

"David, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Dammit, Kurt. I almost started crying when Sean was here, but I wouldn't let myself." Kurt rose from the chair and walked over to the bed, taking a seat beside David. "Kurt, I'm so fucking tired of crying. Every fucking day, something happens that just sets me off. When's it gonna stop?"

Kurt put his hand on David's shoulder. "David, you've been through a horrible time. Your emotions are close to the surface so it doesn't take much. The same happened to me when my dad was in the hospital. Every little thing would make me cry. It's going to get better for you, David. It will take some time, but it's going to go away."

David sniffed and composed himself, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, Finn wanted me to say 'hello' to you from him," Kurt said, smiling. This brought a slight smile to David's face.

David sniffed again and nodded. "Finn's a good guy. Another person I regret not knowing better than I did. I was a raging asshole to the guy most of the time."

"Finn doesn't hold a grudge. When I mentioned you, he said that he had good memories and bad memories of you; but then he also said that it'd be cool to see you sometime."

"Probably the best time I can remember having with Finn was when we won that championship game. That week, though, was all ups and downs for me; but it was somehow a point where I felt I was significantly moving from one place to another about how I saw myself."

Kurt smiled, "Finn described dealing with you as a rollercoaster, actually."

David smiled, eyes still drying. "That was the week that the football team had to work with the glee club and be part of the halftime show or else they were barred from playing that game."

Kurt laughed briefly. "The halftime show was a lot of fun to watch, David."

"It was fun for me too, but I'd have never admitted that at the time. Y'know, after we rehearsed and Schuester told us we were great, Finn turned to me and hugged me." David paused, his voice quieting. "I felt like I was a part of something really great. Then one of the guys on the hockey team called me 'gay' and they slushied the whole group of us, and I wanted nothing to do with the whole damned thing." David paused again, thinking further. "When we first walked into the choir room at the beginning of the week, Rachel Berry refused to work with me. She pointed at me and called me a 'known homophobe'. That kinda hurt."

"David, you have my greatest sympathies for many things," Kurt began, "but what Rachel said at that point, well, you had it coming."

"Yeah, I know. It was that self-centered part of me. I wanted someone to understand me. If this girl with two gay dads couldn't 'get me', who the fuck could?"

"It's the past, David. No one worth any consideration is going to hold that stuff against you at this point."

"Y'know, I never slushied anyone after that week, and I was never abusive to any of the glee people after that week either."

Kurt smiled warmly at David. "Let's get a move on your Facebook thing, shall we? Before we lose track of time?"

"Yeah, guess we should do that." David got up and turned on his laptop. "I'll get logged-in, but I don't wanna see anything until you clean all of those comments out."

"That was my intention exactly. We're completely on the same page where that's concerned."

Kurt sat at David's desk; David leaned over Kurt's shoulder and tapped in his password, then walked back to the chair on the far side of the room. Kurt got to work immediately adjusting David's security settings to 'friends-only' status, making sure that any comments posted needed to meet with David's approval before going public; then he busied himself deleting all of the negative comments on David's wall. This really took only a matter of minutes as he deleted everything after the day of David's attempt to take his own life. Then came the somewhat more tedious task of deleting and blocking unwanted people from David's friends list. Fortunately, David's friends list was populated with only seventy-eight names. Some were familiar and obvious friends, but Kurt read all of the names out one-by-one just to be sure.

"Here we go, David. I'm going to go through this list a name at a time. Tell me if you want to keep them, delete them, or delete-and-block them."

"Okay," David said, "fire away."

"Howard Bartel?"

"Keep him. He's alright."

"Justin Thomas?"

"Keep."

"Gretchen and Sean are obvious, right?"

"Yep."

"Scott Berty?"

"Keep."

"Randy Sachs?"

There was a pause. "Get rid of him. Block him."

"Carl Vedova"

"Block."

"Spencer Joules?"

"Keep."

"John 'Johnno' Siler?"

There was another pause, longer than the last. "Keep him."

This went on for some minutes until the list was finished.

"Okay, that's the whole list, and I've added a couple for you also. Do you want me to log you out?"

"Yeah," David replied, sounding somewhat tired. "I'll be spending a fair time on the computer in the next few days getting my grips on the school assignments, and, hopefully, starting work on my History project."

Kurt's phone signalled a text-message alert. Kurt checked it. "Wow, I didn't realize how late it's gotten. Blaine just texted me."

David nodded, smiling slightly.

"He just wants me to call him when I get home, which won't be for another half-hour, probably."

The alert again. Kurt read the message. "He's okay with that. The day doesn't seem complete for either of us if we don't speak just before we go to sleep."

David smiled wider. "That's sweet," David opined, sincerely.

"Yes, it's nice how we need each other," Kurt smiled wide and confident.

David's expression soured slightly. "Y'know, I thought a lot about that."

"What?" Kurt questioned, "Me and Blaine?"

David laughed quietly. "No, the difference between wanting someone and needing someone."

Kurt responded, smiling confidently. "It's like the difference between liking someone and loving someone?"

David wrinkled his brow slightly at that. "I think 'like' and 'love' are both related to 'want'. I don't think 'need' really applies to either."

Kurt shot David a confused expression, shaking his head gently. "I don't know if I can agree. I mean, love is such a strong emotion and needing is so much stronger than wanting."

"Well, you are certainly more experienced than I am, Kurt. I've never even been on an actual date, let alone been even close to being in a relationship with anyone, but I look at it like this," David explained. "Driving is pretty necessary around here unless you want to be at the mercy of the regional transit authority, right?"

"Yeah..." Kurt replied, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"And it's nice to have your own car, right?"

"Of course, David."

"And you like cheesecake, right?"

Kurt smiled, now somewhat amused and confused by the conversation. "I love cheesecake."

"Yeah, me too. Especially the stuff that's heavy like a brick. The kind that, after you eat it, you don't want to even think about cheesecake for a week, but you'd eat another piece in a heartbeat the next day if the opportunity presented itself."

Kurt smiled and nodded agreement.

"Okay then, in order to drive your own car, you gotta buy car insurance, right?" David asked.

Kurt smiled, somewhat less, but nodded agreement again.

"Okay. You're in a relationship with someone. You love them and they love you. Would you rather be that person's cheesecake or that person's car insurance? On the one hand, you're this luxury thing which they want; on the other hand, you're this thing that they begrudgingly pay for because they need." David's eyes addressed Kurt who looked somewhat stunned, not for the first time this evening. "I'd rather be cheescake for someone I love. At least, I am pretty sure I would." David shrugged and smiled slightly.

David stood slowly up from the bed where he was sitting. Kurt stood also, somewhat slowly, seeming preoccupied, even downright blown away by the last few minutes' exchange.

"You should probably get on the road, Kurt. You have school tomorrow, and you should be checking in with Blaine."

"Yes. I should be getting home." Kurt seemed almost uncertain in his footing walking down the steps toward the front door.

"Take care, thanks for coming by, Kurt, and drive safely."

"Have a good night, David," Kurt said softly, looking back at David. "Goodbye."

David closed and locked the front door after watching Kurt's car leave his driveway.

Paul approached David as he turned around. "How are your friends?"

"They're good. It was great seeing Sean, and it's always good to talk to Kurt."

Paul smiled and nodded.

"I'm gonna get off to sleep, Dad. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, David," Paul said with a smile as he patted David on the shoulder before David turned and ascended the staircase.

 

* * *

 

"Hi, Kurt."

"Hello, Blaine," Kurt replied, having dialed Blaine just after reclining onto his bed. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Naw, wasn't asleep yet. How'd it go tonight? You were there a pretty long time."

"Well, I met one of David's friends from Thurston, and we chatted for a while. Then he left, and I got to work on David's Facebook profile." Kurt paused. "That took a little while." Another pause. "I don't think I'm going to be spending much time with David other than checking in on him and keeping in touch with him from now on."

"Why?" Blaine asked with some concern. "Did something happen? Something bad?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. Nothing like that at all. It's just that it doesn't seem like I need to be there. He seems like he's doing okay. He really seems to have his head together." The thought perplexed Kurt even though he believed it.

"Well, that's good," Blaine replied.

"I love you Blaine." Kurt whispered, almost out of nowhere, sounding almost desperate.

"Uh, I love you too, of course, Kurt. Are you sure you're okay."

"I'm sure," Kurt answered. "I think I'm just exhausted. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Blaine. Good night."

"Good night, Kurt."

Kurt lay in bed for some minutes, exhausted but not sleeping, his head was nearly spinning, and it wouldn't slow down easily. Eventually, Kurt fell into a heavy slumber.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 5,230

**Chapter 12**

 

Kurt woke an hour late the next morning, having apparently shut off his alarm clock and gone back to sleep. Despite getting out of bed late (or, perhaps, as a _consequence_ of getting out of bed late), he felt drained and unfocused. He skipped his morning skin-care regimen and only half-heartedly fixed his hair just so he could be out the door and to school on time.

"Kurt, you don't look like yourself," Blaine commented upon seeing Kurt before homeroom period.

Kurt shook his head slowly, eyes puffy. "I'm fine. I just woke up late, and I can't get my head out of the fog. Maybe it was the coffee I had at David's last night that messed-up my sleep. Maybe I could use some coffee right now. I'll wake up eventually."

"Well, at least you don't have plans to visit Karofsky after school today, right? You said last night that you were going to quit that."

"I never planned on going to see him two evenings in a row like that in the first place; it just worked out that way. I'll go see him occasionally, I'm sure, and I'll probably at least touch base with him every day to make sure everything's okay. I'm sure he doesn't need me around all of the time, and I don't want to be bothersome. Hopefully, he'll get back to seeing his other friends." Kurt paused, trying to word what he wanted to say, his clouded state not making it easy. "David maybe thinks too much. He's isolated part of himself for so long, and I think he spends his alone-time thinking." Kurt's face took on a troubled expression. "He needs to interact with someone who has some idea of what he's dealing with."

Blaine smiled at Kurt reassuringly. "He'll be okay, I'm sure, because you're going to check up on him, and I know that, if you think he needs anything, you'll be right there for him because that's the kind of friend you are, Kurt."

Blaine sounded sincere. He spoke as if he did think the world of Kurt, but what Blaine had just said, though it was said with the best of intentions, needled Kurt. It was that "n" word. David didn't _need_ anything, and he was not likely to _need_ anything, and that was bothering Kurt in a way he knew was not his place to be bothered; and that fact bothered him as well.

"Blaine, can we do something tonight?" Kurt asked. "Even if we just hang out at my place and watch TV or something."

"Yeah, but are you sure you're okay, Kurt?" Blaine was genuinely concerned. "You are all out-of-sorts and..."

Kurt cut Blaine off in mid-sentence. "I think I just need some Blaine-time."

At that, Blaine smiled warmly at Kurt.

 

* * *

  

David was awake well before his alarm sounded. He lay in bed for several minutes before actually getting up. Despite the events of a week ago, he felt good and was eager to begin the day. He'd go downstairs and have breakfast with his dad, see what his dad had planned, not being sure if Paul needed to go to the office today; he'd get on the weight bench for a while as that felt great on David the day before; he'd organize his school materials and the corresponding lesson plans and possibly dive into the work; and he'd accomplish all of this before Rupert arrived at ten o'clock. This afternoon would also see his first appointment with a psychiatrist. He wasn't exactly looking forward to that; but, he felt that, if it could possibly help him, he'd approach it with an open mind. Oddly, though, right now, at this moment, he didn't feel like he needed help at all. As he rose from a lying position to sitting upright on the edge of his bed, he realized that he was smiling pleasantly. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but he was smiling.

Reaching over to his nightstand, David picked up his phone. He considered texting Kurt, but decided to wait for a while. Kurt was probably in the middle of his morning ritual and getting ready for school; David decided to wait until he was sure that Kurt would be at school before he sent a message. David dressed quickly in his workout clothes, grabbed his phone, and headed downstairs.

His dad wasn't up-and-about yet, but he would be soon; David started making coffee and poured, then drank, a glass of orange juice. It would probably be a half-hour before Paul was up, so David went down to the gameroom and worked out, breaking a healthy sweat, though conscious of making his activity lighter than the previous day's weight-session: he didn't want to overextend himself. When he returned upstairs to the kitchen, he saw that his dad had risen and was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"You're up early, David," Paul said with a slight smile on his face.

David smiled back, looking somewhat winded and obviously sweaty after his workout. "Good morning, Dad. Yeah, I woke up before my alarm, so I thought I'd take advantage of that early start."

"You seem to be in a good mood today."

"I woke up feeling really good, Dad. Just a good, solid night's sleep, I guess." David shrugged with that and continued. "Are you going in to the office today?"

"Well, I had planned to take most of this week off, but you're doing well, the tutor will be here later, and I can get back here in time to go with you to your appointment, so why not? It's probably good that I don't disappear from work for days at a time, and I'm not using as much vacation time that way. Will you be okay if I leave around seven-thirty?"

"Yep. I have my whole morning planned out. After I eat and hit the shower, I'm gonna organize my lesson plans and get a head-start on that stuff before Rupert gets here."

Paul smiled at David as he listened, speaking after a short span of silence. "David, I thought this was going to be really difficult for both of us, but you're making this seem so easy. You've been through something terrible. I'm amazed at how you're bouncing back."

David smiled. "I know I have your support. I have a couple of good friends. I've been given second chances, and, Dad, you gave me the biggest second chance. For you and for my friends who are sticking with me, I don't want to mess up. I know that you and my friends are going to help me, and all I have to do is say the word and you'll be there; but the major effort here has to be my own. I might be able to push my way through this even if you weren't so great to me, but I don't want to think about how hard that might be."

The two finished breakfast in comfortable silence for a while before Paul started making small talk about David's plans for the rest of the day.

"Any visitors on your schedule for this evening?" Paul asked.

"No, not yet, at least. Honestly, I should probably spend as much time on my school work as I can today just to get an idea of how much work I need to do to get caught-up."

Paul smiled and stood. "Well, with that, I think I'll be hitting the road for the office. Like yesterday, let me know if you need anything."

"Goodbye, Dad." David smiled back. "My appointment is at two o'clock."

"I should be back by noon, one at the latest. Take care, and I'll see you in a few hours."

As David heard the garage door open and then close, he reached for his phone.

 

* * *

  

Kurt took his seat in his homeroom, still trying to shake the cobwebs out of his head. He thought about resting his head on his desk but then considered that at least the appearance of alertness might be a more practical option since the late bell had not yet sounded.

Last night's talk with David was stuck in his head. It wasn't exactly troubling him as much as, maybe, haunting him. There was something proactive and slightly aggressive about David's demeanor. Two nights ago, Kurt saw the eloquence and depth of which David was capable; last night was some kind of friendly, non-violent assault which shot holes into ideas which Kurt held dear on some level. And then there was that whole discussion of want versus need. Damn it if Kurt didn't feel like David gave him some kind of kiss-off. Kurt was offering David his help and David had the audacity to say that he didn't want to be in a position of need. But he was talking about relationships, so it wouldn't apply to Kurt, right? So why was Kurt rolling this over in his mind on infinite repeat? Okay, maybe this _was_ troubling Kurt. There was absolutely no reason why it should trouble Kurt, but Kurt couldn't shake the desire to fly off the handle on David like he did in that locker room just over a year ago even though it seemed like another life entirely. But what could Kurt possibly say? _'How dare you trivialize fashion?' 'How dare you compare the accomplishments of a war-hero with the tawdry lives of pampered Hollywood spoiled-brat actresses?'_ Kurt found this infuriating on some level. And what was so infuriating? The possibility that David might be right about things.

The text alert on Kurt's phone snapped him out of this particular mental whirlpool.

 

* * *

  

David considered addressing Kurt with some complimentary euphemism because he was truly appreciative of Kurt's time, help, and conversation the previous evening; but he couldn't summon any that didn't sound like cutesy pet-names. Words like "gorgeous" and "beautiful", words which he could have thrown out to Gretchen without repercussion, were definitely not acceptable, and David was not sure why they even occurred to him in this case. He wanted to communicate the degree to which he appreciated Kurt's attention and assistance, but his word choice needed to be more appropriate.

 

* * *

 

David: _Good morning, Professor Hummel. I hope this fine day finds you in good spirits._ 7:34 AM

Kurt snickered upon reading the message, shaking his head. He didn't want to laugh. This was from the guy that was causing him to feel some strange and unwelcome thoughts right now, but Kurt could not deny that he was charmed by the words.

 

* * *

 

David was clearing the table of the breakfast dishes when his phone's text alert sounded.

Kurt: _Good morning, David. Professor? Really?_ 7:35 AM

David smirked upon reading the reply.

 

* * *

  

David: _Sure. Why not? You're authoritative. And I enjoy our talks. I wanted to say something complimentary and respectful. That was all I could think of right now._ 7:35 AM

Kurt wanted to be irritable, but he found himself smiling. He wanted to go to curl up somewhere warm and go to sleep with a smile on his face. Before Kurt could reply, another message arrived.

David: _So how are you this morning, Kurt?_ 7:36 AM

Kurt began feeling more awake. Perhaps it was the physical activity of viewing the messages and trying to respond cleverly. Being clever, however, was still too much to hope for in his foggy state.

 

* * *

 

Kurt: _I slept poorly and woke up late. I look like an unmade bed, and I feel like my brain is oatmeal. If I didn't know you better, I'd think that you drugged the coffee last night._ 7:37 AM

David felt a slight sting of guilt, thinking that he'd possibly kept Kurt occupied too late, but he smiled at the oatmeal and coffee comments. Then another text came in.

Kurt: _And why do you seem so energetic this morning, David? And if I'm a professor, what are you? I'm not creative enough right now to come up with something clever._ 7:38 AM

David chuckled, though he felt some sympathy for Kurt's state.

 

* * *

 

David: _I woke up feeling great before my alarm even went off. I did some lifting, had breakfast with my dad, and planned my day. Today is my first appointment with the head-shrinker also._ 7:39 AM

David: _And I had the same coffee you did last night._ 7:39 AM

Before Kurt fully digested the messages, another followed.

David: _Some of my friends at Thurston called me Comrade Karofsky. Maybe that will work for you._ 7:39 AM

Then another.

David: _I'm sorry that you're having a lousy start today._ 7:39 AM

Kurt smiled despite that his head was spinning from the rapidity of the messages. He gave his head a vigorous shake before he composed a reply.

 

* * *

 

Kurt: _My urge to murder you for being in such a good mood so early while I can't seem to get fully conscious will likely pass._ 7:40 AM

David smiled and chuckled. He was learning to appreciate Kurt's bitchiness.

Kurt: _Comrade Karofsky? I like it. It made me laugh a little and that might have helped to wake me._ 7:40 AM

David smiled again. He was fond of the name himself.

Kurt: _I hope your appointment goes well. You can call me later if you like._ 7:41 AM

 

* * *

 

Kurt was not sure why he sent that last message. He was interested to know if the psychiatrist would likely be of help to David, but he felt like he should be be cautious of which doors to leave open. And then he felt immediately bad about second-guessing the action. He had told David that they were friends, and there was a responsibility in that friendship at the very least. Then another message came to Kurt's phone.

David: _Thank you. Have a good day. I'll call if anything worthwhile develops._ 7:42 AM

 

* * *

 

Rupert's stays would eventually be longer, but, for the time being, all he really needed to do was make sure that David had the appropriate lessons to get up to speed with the work he missed. David was picking everything back up quickly, and, as a consequence, Rupert finished with David through the lesson plans before noon. It was ninety minutes before he and Paul needed to leave for his appointment with the psychiatrist, and Paul had not yet returned. David organized his schoolwork so he could waste as little time as possible diving back into it when he returned.

To fill the time between the present and the point when he and his father would leave for his appointment, David decided to check his email, something he hadn't done in days, and check his newly-lightened Facebook profile. As soon as he logged on he saw the notification: _Finn Hudson has accepted your friend request_. David, surprised, smiled at this. This must have been what Kurt was talking about last night when he said, after deleting a great number of David's old friends, that he had added some.

Finn had left a message for David also. David opened it and read it immediately.

_Hey Karofsky. I'm glad to hear from Kurt that you're doing ok. If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. Maybe we can hang out sometime. Feel free to message me any time you want to._

David was warmed by the gesture. He immediately replied to the message.

_Hi, Finn. Thanks for accepting my friend request. Actually, Kurt sent it for me, but I appreciate that you accepted it as much as I appreciate that Kurt took the it upon himself to send it in the first place. I know that I was a pretty lousy person to you, your friends, and especially Kurt, but you and I had a few good times also. I plan on apologizing to you in person next time I see you because I owe you that, but until then, just know that I am sorry about my past behavior toward you and your friends. Thanks for being a good guy._

David could hear the sound of his father's car pulling into the driveway. Although he was ready to go to his appointment, there was still over an hour before they needed to leave, and David had a few more things he wanted to do online before they left. Before that, though, he made sure to walk over to his bedroom door, poke his head out, and yell a greeting down to his dad as he entered the house.

 

* * *

 

"Thanks for having me over for dinner, Kurt," Blaine said, helping Kurt to clear the plates from the table.

"Well, lately I've been eating alone or eating with Finn which means Finn and I are in the same house eating at the same time but essentially oblivious to each other," Kurt explained. "Dad and Carole are usually around on Saturday and Sunday, but the weekdays, well, sometimes there's no one around but me. And eating alone is okay, but it's not much fun making a presentation if there's no one around to appreciate it. The desire to say 'screw it' and eat my dinner from a paper plate or a microwavable glass measuring cup is almost insurmountable."

"If a tree falls in the forest and Kurt Hummel isn't around to dictate proper napkin etiquette..." Blaine began.

"Does Blaine get smacked in his adorable mug with a throw pillow after dinner?" Kurt finished with a sadistic grin on his face.

Blaine smiled hugely, wrapping his arms around Kurt and following him to the sink. "This was a great, spur-of-the-moment idea."

Kurt grinned to himself as the two of them both stood facing the counter, Blaine's solid arms still holding onto Kurt firmly.

"So, where is Finn anyway?" Blaine asked.

"Honestly, I don't know. If it was someplace unusual, he'd have probably let me know. Being that he didn't text or call, he's probably out somewhere with Rachel or Puck."

"Mmmm," Blaine hummed into Kurt's ear. "So we have the house to ourselves?"

"For the time being," Kurt answered. "I have no idea when he'll be back. Really not that big a deal. If he sees us cuddling on the couch, he'd be fine. If he sees both of us in some state of partial undress, he probably knows to pretend that he didn't see anything."

Blaine laughed, knowing that Kurt wasn't entirely serious.

"Could you help me get these dishes into the dishwasher, then we can go into the other room and get comfy?" Kurt suggested; in his mind, Kurt was thinking to himself, _fuck you, David Karofsky, I_ need _my Blaine time_.

Eventually, the two of them found themselves on the couch, indeed cuddling, in front of the TV. "Okay, I thought February was sweeps time, and I thought, being that it was sweeps time, there might be something worthwhile on the television, but, alas, I was wrong," Kurt bemoaned as he shut down the illuminating device via the remote control.

"Well, you're a little more particular than I am, Kurt," Blaine countered. "I could watch crappy reality shows or reruns of vintage sitcoms." Kurt rolled his eyes in reaction, queenly. "Yeah, Kurt, I know it's like, lobotomy-by-television, but it's not like there's any more pressing alternative."

Kurt sat up, reaching for his laptop which he left leaning against the end-table when he returned from school. "Let's see if there's anything which piques our combined interests elsewhere," Kurt suggested as the screen lit up. "Besides, I don't think I've checked my mail all day."

"No? That's not like you, Kurt."

"Well," Kurt countered, "I was such a spacy mess earlier today."

"Yeah, that's right. You seem fine now, though."

"Yes, by lunch time I felt normal, even if I looked like a trainwreck"

Blaine smiled and laughed, "you looked just _perfect_ , Kurt." Blaine sat up from his reclining position and, brushing Kurt's hair back from his forehead with his hand, kissed Kurt on his cheek. Kurt smiled in the glow, looking down at the screen.

The front door opened, and Finn entered. "Hey Kurt. Hey Blaine. What are you two up to? Is there anything to eat?"

"Hi Finn," Blaine called out.

Kurt looked up from his laptop. "Hello Finn. There is some leftover pasta in the refrigerator. You're welcome to that if you like."

"Thanks, Kurt." Finn called out as he entered the kitchen area.

Kurt logged onto his gmail account and saw several new messages. Nothing caught his eye, really, but he noticed one from David with the subject line ' _judas priest links_ '. Blaine saw it also. "What's that?"

Kurt opened the email. "It's from David. Some 80s metal band with a lead singer who came out in the 90s or something. Sounded interesting." Kurt clicked on one of the youtube links in the email.

"Hey, I think this is on a TV commercial for a car or something," Blaine observed as the intro to the song played on a live performance video from a 1982 concert.

The song-proper began and Blaine and Kurt could see the singer of the band, appearing in a theatrical manner climbing from scaffolding high above the stage. He was dressed in leather pants, a leather vest, a leather policeman's cap, and mirrored sunglasses; he held a coiled whip in his hand as well as a microphone. Blaine and Kurt were collectively impressed and amused at once.

"He's campy, but he can really belt it out," Blaine observed, playfully throwing the horns at the screen.

_I'm made of metal_  
 _My circuits gleam_  
 _I am perpetual  
_ _I keep the country clean_

"Are you guys listening to _Judas Priest_?" Finn asked incredulously, shovelling a forkful of pasta into his mouth from a paper plate as he returned from the kitchen.

Clearly amused and impressed by both the sound and image of the band, Kurt and Blaine looked up at Finn in unison as Kurt explained, "David sent me links to some of their videos; he said that their openly gay singer might make them of some interest to me."

"What?" Finn, even more incredulous, "Halford's not _gay_!"

Blaine laughed and looked down, shaking his head. Kurt playfully snapped at his stepbrother, "Oh, c'mon Finn, _look_ at this guy!"

Finn stepped behind the couch to view the laptop screen over their shoulders. His face crinkled a little as he considered the image. "Yeah, you'd know more than I would, I guess. Cool song, though." Finally, Finn nodded approval. "Gay dudes can rock-out too. Cool." Finn turned back toward the kitchen to dispose of his empty paper plate.

"Karofsky's full of surprises, I guess," Blaine observed, smiling.

"David has a totally different approach to gay culture," Kurt looked somewhat perplexed, definitely thoughtful. "It's like, the stuff he talks about makes the stuff I know about seem kinda immaterial sometimes."

"Y'know, Kurt, you don't have a monopoly on gay culture knowledge," Blaine offered. Kurt continued to look downward, a slightly irked expression developed on his face. Blaine continued. "It's not a bad thing, y'know. We all need to find our comfort zones. I couldn't imagine Karofsky watching those top-model reality shows or Joan and Melissa on the red carpet."

"You're right, and I shouldn't waste mental energy thinking about it." Kurt smiled at Blaine's wise and obvious observation.

"Sounds like Karofsky's a pretty interesting guy once you get to know him."

"Like I told you a couple of nights ago, David surprised me with an intelligence and depth I couldn't have predicted."

"Have you heard from him at all today?"

"We exchanged a few text messages when I was in homeroom. I was still feeling all loopy, and he was all energetic and motivated, and the whole thing made me wanna shoot him or something." Kurt grinned.

Blaine laughed, then shut down the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. He slid his arm around Kurt and pulled him close, slowly reclining both of them into a spooning posture. "This was a nice idea, Kurt."

"Mmmm," Kurt responded, nearly purring, sounding absolutely content and comfortable.

"It's been a while since we did something that was just about us," Blaine added, murmuring into Kurt's ear.

Kurt's body wiggled slightly, adjusting softly to the pleasing position.

"I think I definitely needed this," Blaine whispered.

Kurt smiled instinctively, then his eyes stunned open and he thought he felt his body go from soft and comfortable to rigid and mechanical in a flash. There was that word again. It seemed so inviting, simple, and appropriate until last night: fucking _need_.

Blaine held Kurt close for minutes. This felt like an eternity to Kurt as tried with everything he could summon not to betray the fact that he had never been less at-ease in Blaine's embrace. Finally, Blaine broke the silence.

"It's getting late, and I'm afraid of getting too comfortable, Kurt."

Kurt exhaled in relief, then said, instinctively and against any intelligent judgement at all, "You could crash here if you like." The suggestion surprised even Kurt.

Blaine smiled sweetly and wide. "I _wish_! Really, I gotta get going. My parents would probably freak out on me if I called and said I was spending the night at your place."

Kurt nodded, a small smile on his face.

As the two sat up, Blaine put his arm around Kurt and turned to face him, guiding Kurt's face toward his with his hand, gently. The two kissed. Kurt couldn't remember ever feeling as uncomfortable or anxious when Blaine kissed him as he did at this moment. True as Kurt's discomfort was, though, Blaine didn't notice. The two stood, walked toward the door, and gave each other their farewells; and Blaine departed into the night.

The strange, uncertain feeling of the previous evening came back to Kurt. He moved slowly through the living room, retrieving his phone from the kitchen counter where he left it a few hours ago. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he felt a distinct sting of disappointment when he found no new messages or missed calls from David.

It was still fairly early in the evening, and Kurt debated sending a text message to David. He was interested to hear about David's appointment with the psychiatrist; but David's words of the previous two nights were still resonating in Kurt's mind, perhaps too strongly. Kurt decided to give David a rest for the evening: he'd catch up the next day. For now, though, he went through his nightly skin care ritual and waited for Blaine to call him upon his arrival home.

About an hour later in the evening, as Kurt lay in bed, he did indeed receive a call from Blaine.

"Hi Blaine."

"Hi Kurt. All home and ready to retire for the night."

"That's where I am right now too. I don't think I'll have much trouble sleeping tonight."

"I don't think I will either," Blaine agreed. "A good meal always helps wind me down. Did you hear from Karofsky at all tonight?"

"No. Probably means nothing to report. No news is good news, as the saying goes. I'll catch up with him tomorrow."

"Yes, I'm sure if you didn't hear from him, there's nothing worth talking about that can't wait," Blaine confirmed. "Well, I'm going to get going to sleep. Thanks again for a nice evening."

Kurt smiled. "You're welcome, as always, Blaine. Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt. Goodnight."

On that, the two boys ended their phone call.

Contrary to Kurt's prediction, though, sleep did not come easily. He lay there, not nearly as anxious as the previous night, but simmering uncertainty, just the same.

There were adjectives used during the day. They passed through Kurt's consciousness as sleep began to take him. _Authoritative_. _Respectful_. _Perfect_. Actually, " _looked just perfect_ " was the context in which that last one was used. They were all good things. The first two related to character traits. Genuinely strong character traits. The last one, nice as it was, was superficial. But it was still great to be told that he looked perfect. And it was on a day when he knows he looked less-than-perfect. Maybe Blaine felt that Kurt needed to hear that. Whatever the case, it was nice to hear. Oh, fuck: _that_ word again.

Okay, Kurt wanted to be told that he looked good on a day when he felt like garbage. It was also a good thing to be told that he was authoritative and worthy of respect. He didn't need to hear any of it, really. Sleep couldn't come soon enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced is "The Hellion/Electric Eye" by Judas Priest. The intro part to the song "The Hellion" was indeed used on a television ad for a car recently; and the live video from 1982 which I reference here can be viewed on youtube.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 5,500

**Chapter 13**

 

**Dave at Thurston, Part 8**

"Hey Sean," Dave greeted as he took his seat on Monday morning's Calculus class. "Thanks for having me over Saturday night. Sorry If I made things tense there for a while."

"It's okay, Dave," Sean replied. "It made things weird for a while, but everything went back to normal. Howie's bummed out that he pissed you off. He's really not an ass."

"Yeah, I know, I think Howie's a nice guy. There are certain things which, I guess, piss me off like that."

"Dave, you've got strong convictions. I respect you for that. A lot of people around here respect you for that, Howie included."

"Thank you," Dave said quietly, humbly accepting the compliment. "How was the party after I left?"

"Once it got rolling again, it went pretty well. Howie actually got his wish in that a couple of girls did actually show up, but by that time, he was totally embarrassing."

Dave shook his head and smiled. "You people really need to watch his alcohol intake because he obviously can't watch it himself. That could be very bad for him."

"Yeah," Sean agreed. "I wouldn't let him drive. He crashed at my place."

"Well, it's good that he has responsible friends like you to look after him."

"You're kinda like that, Dave. When we're all hanging together, you're always a responsible guy."

"I try to be good to my friends."

"You definitely are, Dave."

After Calculus class, Dave made a stop at his locker. He had a free period which he'd often used to stop by the gym or the weight room and hang with his other team members, but he decided to skip that today. He'd had enough with most of the guys on the team with whom, games aside, he really didn't feel a connection. Besides, football season was over, though the practices would go on regularly for the boys who would be playing the following year. He grabbed some of his notebooks and headed to the library.

Upon arriving at the library, Dave visually scanned the space for an unoccupied isolated desk, and he found one. He was about to sit there when he saw Johnno sitting by himself at a table at the other side of the room.

"Hey, Johnno," Dave began, "Cool if I sit here?"

Johnno looked up and answered. "Hey, Karofsky. Sure, man, be my guest."

The two smiled as Dave pulled out the chair and sat, placing his stack of books on the table to this left side. Johnno had a Trigonometry textbook opened and was copying and solving problems in an open notebook. Dave retrieved his AP History notebook from the stack and placed it on the table.

Johnno was a tall boy with a fair complexion and gray-blue eyes. Slightly taller than Dave, he had sandy-blonde hair buzzed close to his scalp, and his face was often scruffy with sideburns, an unshaven chin, or both. Like Dave, Johnno was broad-shouldered and muscled; unlike Dave, he was naturally very lean. His eyes were deeply-set and his features had a strong, chiseled appearance: when he was expressionless, he appeared intimidating; when he smiled, however, he appeared friendly, warm, and approachable.

"Not hanging with the team today?" asked Dave.

"Nah, football season's over," Johnno replied. "Besides, I don't always feel like hanging with those guys."

"You and me both. Aren't you doing basketball, though?"

"Yeah, but I have a couple of weeks before that starts."

Dave looked down at Johnno's notebook. "Trig?"

"Yeah. Not my best thing, but I'm dealing with it," Johnno replied.

"Dude, I'm a math-guy. If you ever need any help with Trig, I'm your man," Dave offered.

"Right now, I'm fighting through it alright. It's best I get through this stuff with as little help as possible. Best way to learn it."

"You're right about that. Which teacher?"

"McGivern."

Dave nodded. "Don't have her. Haven't heard much about her. Having transferred from a different school, the only teachers I've ever had here are the ones I have now, and even those teachers, I've only had for a couple of months."

Johnno grinned and nodded back. "Miss McGivern's really nice, and she knows what she's doing, but she's not the best at explaining things."

"Well, then, if there's something you're not completely getting sometime, flag me down," Dave repeated his offer.

"Thanks, Karofsky. I might just take you up on that."

Dave opened his History notebook. He wanted to go over the requirements for the project which he needed to complete. He turned to the page which he wrote several notes corresponding to the handout which Mr. Williams had given the class.

"Hey, Karofsky," Johnno spoke at a hushed level, "you're friends with that Gretchen girl?"

"Yeah," Dave looked up from his notebook.

"And you're just friends, right?"

"Yeah," Dave said with a slight snicker, "apparently you're the only guy that gets that." There was a short pause. "You like her?" Dave asked, smiling slightly.

"She seems really cool, and she's really cute."

"So...ask her out," Dave suggested.

"Uh, she kinda intimidates me."

"Dude," Dave hunched his head down and spoke more quietly, moving closer to Johnno who also moved closer to the table, "have you ever even _talked_ to her?"

"She's in my English Lit class, and she just rules the place. She's smart as anything, but she's tough, Karofsky. I've watched her put people in their place, and it isn't pretty."

Dave shook his head and laughed. "She's also a pretty nice person. She'll be polite to you unless you've given her a reason to be otherwise."

"I guess I'm kinda shy also," Johnno admitted.

"Hey, just talk to her sometime," Dave suggested. "I met her, like, the second day of school, and we hit it off as friends immediately. Just try saying something to her sometime. Maybe an off-the-cuff observation about something absurd. She'd probably relate. Or maybe just say something nice to her. Or something about a class assignment."

Johnno looked up over Dave's shoulder and a shadow fell on Dave's notebook. Then a card which appeared to be an Ohio driver's license dropped onto Dave's notebook, starling Dave slightly. Dave turned around.

"Hey Karofsky," Nick looked down at Dave's face. "There's your fake ID. See you at the Harrison Lodge Friday night."

Nick walked away, and Dave looked at the ID card. "Wow, this _is_ impressive," Dave commented aloud. The card had his photo and identified his birthdate as June 4, 1989 making Dave's fake-age twenty-two years old. The name and address weren't Dave's but, as Nick had promised earlier, this ID could probably fool a policeman.

"You going with those guys Friday night?" Johnno asked.

Dave exhaled loudly, "They don't want to take 'no' for an answer." Dave looked at Johnno. "I really don't have an interest in going, and my parents would freak if they found out. I guess I'll drive myself and leave early. You going?"

"I wasn't asked. I'm just a junior. I think he only invited seniors; and even then, only a few seniors. I guess you're one of the lucky ones."

Dave rolled his eyes and shook his head, "I can think of better ways to burn a Friday night, I'm sure."

"Hey, Johnno," Dave changed the subject. "Why don't you swing past me at lunch and start a conversation with me? Doesn't hafta be long or anything. Maybe mention something about the last game or your Trig homework. I'll be sitting with Gretchen and her friends. Might make an impression. Might be a way to start to talking to her."

Johnno smiled his bright, warm smile. "I might take you up on that. Good idea. If not today, maybe sometime later this week."

"Why not today? No time like the present."

"Eh, I'm kinda scruffy today. If I wanna make any kind of impression, I should at least look presentable."

Dave chuckled. "Gretchen probably wouldn't care about that, but, hey, you hafta feel right about it. Whenever you're feeling it, just stop by and hang for a while."

As the free study period ended, Dave exited the Library to make his way toward Physics class, stopping at his locker once again. He dropped off several books and retrieved his Physics textbook; he heard his name called quietly from behind. Dave turned to find Howie standing behind him. Howie approached closer with measured steps.

"Hey Howie," Dave greeted him.

"Dave, man, I am really sorry about the other night."

"Dude, you were drunk. People say dumb things when they're drunk. Do you remember what I told you?"

Howie looked right at Dave's face. "Uh, that 'gay' isn't a synonym for 'stupid'?"

"Yeah, that part," Dave nodded, speaking softly. "Just remember that, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem, Dave." Howie paused a moment. "You're not like the rest of the jocks around here. You're not an ass."

Dave smiled genuinely at that and held out his hand for Howie and the two boys shook hands. "Howie, we're cool, man. See you at lunch."

Lunchtime found Dave sitting with Sean, Gretchen, and the rest, trayful of food, hungry as usual.

"Hey," Spencer observed, "how come Teresa and Tammy don't sit over here with us?"

"Yeah," Howie added, "They came to your party the other night, Sean."

Sean gave a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "They're brainy like us, sure, but they enjoy some of the benefits of their own crowd which this particular crowd doesn't offer." Sean held a finger and thumb up to his mouth and motioned as if puffing a joint.

Dave laughed and shook his head. "I'm just a good kid among all of you wild, decadent children."

Gretchen grinned at Dave and blew him a kiss from across the table.

"You kids are gonna get me in some kinda trouble yet," Dave added, still grinning.

"Hey, Dave," Sean interjected, changing the subject, "do you know what you're doing on your AP History project?"

"Well," Dave answered, "not exactly, but I was looking the guidelines and getting some ideas earlier today." Dave paused for a moment, swallowing some water. "I was thinking of contacting some surviving World War II veterans, interviewing them, and seeing if I can get a solid focus for a specific topic."

"That sounds like a good idea, Dave," Sean commented, the others nodded agreement. "I just can't seem to get any starting points at all."

Dave felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Johnno standing behind him. "Hey, Johnno, what's up?" Dave said, a welcoming tone in his voice.

"Hey, Karofsky," Johnno smiled slightly, looking somewhat nervous, moreso when the rest of the group, Gretchen included, looked up at him. "Cool game the other night."

"Yeah, too bad it was the last one."

"Yeah," Johnno hesitated a bit. "Do you have another free period Wednesday morning? I have a couple of Trig questions that maybe you could help me with."

"Wednesday? Yeah, sure. Library again?"

"Yeah, Dave, that's perfect," Johnno replied. "Don't wanna keep you from your lunch, so I'll see you then."

"Cool, Johnno," Dave nodded, "Catch you Wednesday, if not sooner."

Johnno departed leaving Dave to turn around and address his lunch tray again. After picking up his cheeseburger and taking a huge bite, he looked up at Gretchen to look for a reaction, trying to take a nondescript expression.

Gretchen remarked, thoughtful expression on her face, nodding slightly. "Y'know, he's another unlikely football guy."

Dave replied, once again, trying to appear only slightly interested. "Oh? How so?"

"Well..." Gretchen said then paused for a moment. "He's in my English Lit class. That's a senior-level class, but he's a junior."

"That's not unusual," Sean considered. "Maybe he's doubling-up so he can take something else next year. It's not unheard of."

Dave nodded.

Gretchen expanded. "He seems really quiet, but he's obviously pretty smart, or at least, smart in that class. Every time the teacher calls on him, and it seems like the teacher singles him out sometimes because he's not very talkative during the discussions, he always has the right answer or a really insightful observation on the reading assignments."

Dave nodded, suppressing a smile. He knew Gretchen liked smart guys.

 

* * *

  

_Email message received October 16, 2011, 2:23 PM_  
Subject: personal ad: help, opinions, and guidance  
From: swrt at hotmaildotcom via greggslist dot org  
To: xxxxxx-324322

Hello. I saw your ad. I don't know if my experience is what you're looking for, but if the story about my being outed can help anyone, I'd tell it. Reply if serious only.  
Thanks

 

_Reply sent October 16, 2011, 9:50 PM_  
RE: personal ad: help, opinions, and guidance  
From: comradeK at gmail dotcom  
To: swrt at hotmaildotcom

Hello, and thank you for replying to my ad. I think that anything you have to tell could be of help to me. As I said in my ad, I am 18 years old and closeted. I am a senior in high school. There's not much more to tell than that. Thanks again for your response.  
Dave

 

_Email message received October 17, 3:16 PM_  
RE: personal ad: help, opinions, and guidance  
From: swrt at hotmaildotcom  
To: comradeK at gmail dotcom

Hello Dave

My name is Steve. I'm 42 years old.  
When I was in college, I played with guys, but I was always secretive about it and thought it was a phase which I'd outgrow. When I was 25, I married, thinking that it was time that I'd passed through that phase. As time went on, though, I still was interested in men. I didn't act on it for several years, then, when I was in my early 30s, I began cheating on my wife with men. By that time, my wife and I had 2 kids. I was always careful, and I always told these guys I was messing around with that I was married and that secrecy was very important to me. I met a guy when I was 37 and began a relationship with him. He was able to find my address. He contacted my wife and told her about what was going on. Needless to say, I am no longer married. I do get to see my kids, but, to say this ruined a big part of my life would be accurate. I love my kids, so I can't regret that, but part of my life is a big mess.

I really can't say much more than that, and I don't know of what help this might be to you.

Steve

_Reply sent October 17, 2011, 8:38 PM_  
RE: personal ad: help, opinions, and guidance  
From: comradeK at gmail dotcom  
To: swrt at hotmaildotcom

Hi Steve

Thank you for telling your story. It could not have been easy for you to recount it. I really don't know what to say. It sounds devastating.  
I do have a question, though. Do you identify yourself as gay or bisexual?  
Thanks again.

Dave

 

_Email message received October 18, 3:42 PM_  
RE: personal ad: help, opinions, and guidance  
From: swrt at hotmaildotcom  
To: comradeK at gmail dotcom

Hi Dave

I identify myself as gay at this point. I think that identifying myself as gay or even bisexual earlier might have saved me and my ex-wife a great deal of pain, our kids also. My feelings are very mixed. I love my kids, I don't regret having my kids.  
I'd like to ask you something as well. How do you identify yourself?

Steve

 

_Reply sent October 18, 2011, 8:02 PM_  
RE: personal ad: help, opinions, and guidance  
From: comradeK at gmail dotcom  
To: swrt at hotmaildotcom

 Hi again Steve

I identify myself as gay. I struggled with that for a few years, but I can say it now without any hesitation. Six months ago, I might have considered doing what you did, as in considering my attraction to men to be a phase, and I might have married as you did. Now, though, I'm certain that I can't do that. I have come to terms with the fact that I am gay, and I am comfortable identifying myself as gay. I am having a difficult time being public about it. Of course, I don't need to be public about it, but I am feeling pressure from almost everyone around me. I think that it would make me feel very relieved if I could be comfortable enough to be honest with them.  
Thank you again for telling me your about your experience.

Dave

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, Dave walked into the library during his free study period to find Johnno sitting at the same table he occupied two days earlier. Johnno, however, was clean-shaven and nicely-dressed in a sweater over a button-down casual dress-shirt. He had his Trig notebook open again, and was working on that day's assignment.

"Hey, Johnno, looking good today," Dave said as he took a seat across the table, facing the other boy.

Johnno looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Karofsky. How are you?"

"Doing well," Dave replied. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Ah...I was going to try to talk to Gretchen today," Johnno said quietly.

"Cool. Good for you."

"Did she say anything the other day when I came by at lunch?"

Dave smiled and nodded. "Ah, yes she did."

A half-minute passed before an impatient and smiling Johnno said, "So...don't keep me in suspense, Karofsky, what'd she say?"

Dave smiled again. "She said that you weren't a typical football jock; that's a good thing. She also commented that you're a junior in a senior-level English Lit class. What's the deal with that?"

"Well, writing is kinda my thing. I wanna take the AP Honors English class next year, and that's writing-intensive; but I also wanted to take the Journalism class. The only way I could take both next year was to get the required junior and senior English courses both this year. She say anything else?"

Dave smiled, even bigger this time. "Yeah. She said that you were quiet, but she gets the impression that you're smart. She also said that you have an insightful take on the reading assignments."

Johnno gave a serious expression.

"Dude," Dave explained further. "This is all good stuff. She likes smart guys. She likes it when guys surprise her with their intelligence."

"Wow. So, what should I do? How should I approach her?"

"Maybe, if she says something cool in class, strike up a conversation with her about it afterward. Maybe even engage her in class discussion or something. Even if you disagree with her intelligently and are respectful about it, she'd probably really dig that."

Johnno gave a thoughtful expression. "That might be a bit of a leap. I told you that she kinda intimidates me."

"Well, then, just say 'hi' to her or something. Maybe just compliment her on something she says in class. Doesn't hafta be anything big, just something to break the ice."

Johnno pondered the idea, nodding. "I guess I could manage that."

Dave added, "Oh, and Johnno, smile."

Johnno looked blank back at Dave.

Dave explained, "You have a great smile, Johnno; if you seem friendly I think you're more likely to make an impression."

"Karofsky!" Nick called from a few steps away. "So, what, are you guys all studious now? Haven't been by the weight room in a couple of days."

Dave looked up at Nick. "Football season's over, and I have some school stuff that needs attention. Don't worry, I'll be back when I get these big assignments rolling."

Nick spoke again. "Just so you know, Friday night we're meeting at the mall at nine o'clock. The Harrison Lodge is in Adjacent about twenty minutes away. We'll all be going in one car."

Dave shook his head. "I'll be driving myself. You guys might want to stay later than I do, and I wanna drive myself in case I want to leave early."

Nick replied. "Suit yourself, Karofsky, but you won't be leaving early with all those hot chicks around." Nick patted Dave on the back as he walked away.

The end of the day found Dave walking with Gretchen to Sean's locker.

"Did you get any further on your AP History project?" Gretchen asked.

"Well, I thought I might try to contact some people through some of the local VFWs and see where that gets me," Dave explained. "World War II veterans are going are going to be in their mid-eighties, at their youngest, so I might have trouble tracking down enough people who want to talk. It'll be a lot of legwork, but if I get, maybe, ten interviews, maybe there will be enough of a common thread in, like, three of them to make a basis for my project."

"That actually sounds like it could be fun," Gretchen replied as the two of them slowed as they approached Sean's locker.

"Hey Gretch, hey Dave," Sean greeted them on their approach. "Anything interesting going on?"

"I got nothin'," Gretchen answered.

"Just schoolwork on my agenda for most of my foreseeable future evenings," Dave added.

From a few steps away, Dave could see Johnno approaching the three of them. Johnno slowed to a stop a few steps away from Dave.

"Hey, Johnno, what's goin' on?" Dave greeted Johnno enthusiastically.

"Uh, just getting ready to leave for the day," Johnno replied.

"Do you know my friends? This is Sean and Gretchen," Dave said as he motioned to each of them with his hand. "Guys, this is Johnno."

Gretchen and Sean smiled and waved; Johnno sort-of nodded at each of them, looking somewhat uncertain and tense.

Gretchen spoke, "We're in the same English Lit class." Gretchen addressed Johnno directly with her eyes, not flirty but attentive. "What do you think about _Wuthering Heights_?"

"Uh, I like it," Johnno answered, sounding a bit nervous but relieved to find common ground. "I've liked most of the reading assignments. Y'know, I'd rather read than watch dumb TV shows."

Gretchen smiled back at him and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"I should get going," Johnno said, sounding still nervous. "Nice meeting you. Later, Karofsky."

"Later Johnno," Dave said, smiling to himself.

"What are _you_ smiling about, Dave?" Gretchen asked, looking up at him; there was that flirty expression.

"Nothing," still smirking, uncontrollably.

"Ever read _Wuthering Heights_ , Dave?" Gretchen asked.

"Yeah, I had to read it last year," Dave answered.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's the kind of thing I'd normally like, but it was intense."

"Ever hear the song by Kate Bush?" Gretchen asked.

Dave shook his head, blank expression upon his face. "Nah...can't say I recognize that name."

Sean interjected. "Good song. I'd have never known it existed if I didn't know Gretchen."

 

* * *

 

The Harrison Lodge was an infamous strip club on the edge of Adjacent. It had been there forever, apparently, as every guy who was over twenty-one, regardless of age, seemed to have some story about the place. It had a reputation of being a place where one was likely to get robbed in the parking lot or roughed-up by the bouncers if they became a little too familiar with the girls. Not that the girls themselves didn't invite the attention: sometimes, so the stories go, the girls, starved for entertainment themselves, would do everything their wily charms allowed to entice the male spectators to touch them, something expressly forbidden, just so they could watch the bouncers in action, ejecting some poor, drunk, lonely guy from the establishment.

The building itself was shabby. It resembled an old, early twentieth-century hotel badly in need of a new coating of paint. The windows were painted over from the inside making it appear distinctly unwholesome. There was a tacky-looking lighted sign, probably decades old, which proclaimed _Harrison Lodge, drinks, fine food, live entertainment_ ; in the lower corners of the sign were those familiar chrome-lady-silhouette images which are seen often on the mudflaps of large trucks. Next to this dreadful-looking sign was a modern, blinking orange neon announcing _Dancing Girls_ , regularly illuminating the parking lot in a sickening orange glow, the color of a radioactive orange-flavored creamsicle, or so Dave mused while he sat in his truck awaiting the arrival of Nick, Randy, Carl, and Tony.

Seeing the four boys emerge from a car pulling into the parking lot, Dave got out of his pickup truck, locked the door, and walked across the gravel lot to join them. Tony and Carl were stumbling around, obviously, they'd started drinking already; Nick and Randy seemed sober.

"Hey, guys, good thing I drove myself," Dave greeted. "Would have been crowded if I rode with all five of us in one car."

"Hey, Karofsky," Nick greeted Dave. "Good call on your part."

The five of them entered the building and walked past a particularly inhospitable-looking bouncer which dwarfed any two of the high school football players. The guy who checked their IDs at the door to the bar area appeared no more welcoming, but he was closer to average-human-male in size.

The interior of the Harrison Lodge removed all of the glamor from any preconceived notions these five boys might have assumed about strip clubs. If they were expecting an elegant gentleman's club with soft, pastel-colored lighting and suave, attentive bartenders like they had seen so often on television shows and movies, the reality of the place was a rude awakening. The walls were plain, panels of plywood painted black, the tables were wobbly, the lighting was sparse and stark, the place smelled faintly of vomit and urine, and the bartender appeared slightly less friendly than the bouncer and doorman they encountered seconds before. There were other patrons gathered at three of the four corners of the bar room where women were dancing at poles. Dave hung back near the bar while the other four raced toward the closest of the dancers.

From a fair distance, Dave found himself disturbed by the scene. It wasn't because he was gay; it was because the entire situation seemed freakish to him. The dancers seemed closer to disproportionate contortionists than they did any kind of idealized image. Indeed, the sculpture he saw at Gretchen's mom's art studio felt more genuinely erotic to him than this freak-show did.

Dave could hear guys around the room whooping it up, and he could even pick out the distinct voices of the other guys he came with, particularly Nick's low voice which was difficult to mistake. Dave approached the bar, trying to appear at ease, and asked the bartender for a beer. The bartender placed an opened bottle on the bar, loudly, even over the din of the 80s hard-rock music which was pounding loudly in the room. Dave placed a ten-dollar-bill on the bar, and the bartender made change. Dave felt that, if he wasn't going to involve himself in getting close to any of the dancers, he'd better at least be drinking something or he'd attract attention for appearing completely out-of-place. Luckily, he wasn't the only guy hanging at the bar, though the few others appeared significantly older: one was slumped over, head essentially resting on the bar; another was sipping what appeared to be a straight whiskey on-the-rocks and eyeing the dancers from a distance; a pair of other men at the bar were talking, leaning close to each other, obviously trying to be secretive about their conversation. This really couldn't end soon enough for Dave.

Occasionally, Dave would see one of the other guys turning around to face him and signal for him to come closer. Dave just continued to lean against the bar, beer in hand, and shake his head in an answer to the distant request. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was actually about fifteen minutes, Dave approached his team-mates who were among a small group of guys encircling a particular dancer. Dave's eyes faced in the direction of the dancer, but he wasn't focusing on anything in particular. He was still in the darkness, far enough from the lighted area to avoid illumination. He distinctly didn't want to make eye-contact with the dancer. Carl turned to Dave and signaled for him to come closer, but Dave was as close as he would get. He didn't even want to be as close as he was.

As the other guys became more engrossed in the dancer, Dave felt an opportunity for escape. He placed his empty beer bottle on the bar and turned to face the crowd of his teammates one last time. He was sure that no one was paying attention to him at this point, so he quickly passed through the bar door and the outside door to the parking lot and into the sick orange-glow of neon. He walked across the gravel to his truck and started the engine. It was not ten o'clock yet; still early on a Friday night.

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home, hoping that his jacket didn't pick up the unsanitary smell of the place. He approached a sign for the junction to Route 81, and, in a completely impulsive move, decided to make a detour west. After driving about twenty-five minutes and making a few turns, Dave arrived at his destination, pulling his truck into a paved, well-kept parking lot this time. This particular establishment appeared more inviting than the Harrison Lodge, but the lighted sign marked with the word 'Scandals' appeared somewhat out-of-date just the same.

Dave sat in his truck for minutes, nervous and jittery before summoning the courage to actually step out of his truck into the parking lot. He had reached back behind his seat and found a baseball cap which fit him tightly. He pulled the brim low over his brow, trying to appear as unrecognizable as possible. He exited his truck, slamming the door shut as quietly as possible, very conscious of attracting any attention.

After looking at his reflection in the window of his truck door and deciding that he appeared anonymous enough, Dave turned and faced the building, took a deep breath, and walked briskly toward the entryway.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 5,700

**Chapter 14**

 

Dave didn't know what to expect as he entered the door. The inside of the bar was less inviting than the outside: plain plywood-paneled walls with advertisements, flyers, and tacky decorations fixed to them with no particular sense of order. He approached a scruffy-looking man sitting at a counter.

"Can I see your ID?" the man asked, sounding bored.

Dave, silent, produced the fake ID from his wallet. He was nervous; it took all of his effort to not tremble. It wasn't because he didn't have confidence in the ID; he was nervous because he had no idea what he'd encounter once he passed the man at the counter and entered the bar.

The man returned the ID card to Dave. "Welcome to Scandals," the man said, slight cheer in his voice. "It's Leather Friday. Have a great time."

The place was fairly well-populated, but not packed. It was warm and humid inside: Dave could feel the moisture in the air from the sweating people on the dancefloor. The bar and dancefloor were dimly-lit; the music was loud: fast-paced dance-music with a pumping, pounding beat. As Dave's eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see that there were a few empty seats at the bar. He sat in the end seat as it was furthest-removed from the other occupied seats. Dave looked around, trying to get a sense of what the other people around him looked like. Most of the guys were dressed in T-shirts and jeans with a leather jacket or a leather vest worn over their shirts. Some of the guys skipped the t-shirt. This made Dave a little uncomfortable.

Dave didn't exactly have significant issues with his self-image where his body was concerned, and he could be around any number of undressed men in a gym locker-room: that was non-sexual; but seeing skin on display in this overtly sexual manner made him a bit nervous. He was thinking to himself that he could never be so physically extroverted with his body. He didn't exactly consider himself demure, but he had a feeling that he'd need to feel close and comfortable with someone before they'd see as much of his body in a similarly uncovered state. And then, when Dave thought about it for a moment, he was always entirely covered. Aside from short-sleeved polo shirts which he always wore with a T-shirt underneath, he rarely wore shorts in public, almost always had a jacket with him, nearly always layered a flannel shirt over a long-sleeved T: Dave was always nearly-fully covered. Then a guy walked up to the edge of the bar where Dave was sitting. He was wearing a vest, shirtless underneath, and leather pants. Dave tried not to betray his apprehension while the man was only inches away from him. The man turned around and Dave noticed that the seat-area of the leather pants had been removed, exposing the man's naked ass. Dave was on the edge of some internal meltdown when a voice snapped him back to the moment.

"What'll you have?"

The bartender's gruff rasp grounded Dave's momentarily unhinged mind.

"I'll have a beer. please," Dave answered, sounding surprisingly unshaken.

"We have Revolving Rock bottles for the drink special tonight. That good for ya?"

"Yeah," Dave said, not wanting to say any more than absolutely necessary.

The bartender placed a bottle of beer in front of Dave, and Dave laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar. The bartender returned Dave's change and placed it on the bar beside the bottle of beer.

"First time here?" said a voice coming from Dave's right side, just loud enough for Dave to know that it was directed at him.

Dave turned to his right to see a pleasant-looking handsome, stocky man seated next to him. The man was dark-complected, dark haired, and wore a close-trimmed beard; He was dressed in a t-shirt, jeans, and a leather motorcycle jacket. Dave guessed his age to be around thirty years old. Dave spoke, timidly, "Am I that obvious?"

The man laughed, but it was friendly without a hint of intimidation. "You just get used to spotting them sometimes." The man had a slight Hispanic accent, but his English was very clear. "Hi. My name's Rod." Rod held out his hand.

Dave smiled, appearing more relaxed than he felt, but Rod seemed sincerely friendly. "Dave here. Nice to meet you, Rod." Dave shook Rod's hand firmly.

"I can see you're nervous, Dave, and, yeah, some of the guys are a little too into it, but most of the people here are just average guys letting off steam after work among guys they have something in common with." Rod paused. "Even if it's just that one thing." Rod smiled.

Dave smiled also, nodding. Rod's smile was disarming: polite and welcoming.

"So, Dave, what do you do for a living?" Rod asked.

"Oh, I'm still in school." It was an innocent response until Dave realized that he might have revealed that he was underage. He went nervous for a second, then into damage-control mode: "Um...Allen County Community College."

"Ah...what are you studying?" Rod asked. nodding.

"Beefing up my credits so I can go to a better school in the fall. Otherwise, haven't totally made up my mind yet."

"How old are you?" Rod asked, slight suspicion in his voice.

"Twenty-two." Dave replied, confidence growing a bit. "I took a couple of years off after I graduated high school. College is expensive, so I was working a couple of jobs."

Rod nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. "So, it's Leather Night. Where's your leather, Dave?"

"I'm wearing a belt," Dave deadpanned in his perfect unmoved style, his eyes direct and his expression steely. "It's made of leather."

Rod laughed. "Hey, that's cool. First time here, and you're relaxed enough to be funny."

Dave was relaxing. "So, how old are you, Rod?"

"I'm thirty-four."

"You're obviously not from Lima originally."

"No," Rod answered. "My family came to the US when I was fifteen years old. I came to Lima years ago for a temporary job, not planning to stay, but I found that I kinda like it here."

"It's not exactly a bustling metropolis," Dave replied.

"No, but my family lived in a couple of bigger cities, and, once I was here, I found that I kinda preferred the slower pace of Lima to, say, Miami or Baltimore."

Dave nodded and smiled, noticing that Rod was looking right at him for several seconds. "What?" Dave gave a startled expression.

Rod smiled and broke his stare on Dave. "You're cute, Dave, but you're too young for me, I fear."

Dave smiled, relaxed, and shrugged. "Well, thank you for the compliment, at least." Dave wanted to say something complimentary back to Rod, but he felt awkward. Rod was handsome, even if he wasn't exactly the kind of guy that Dave really ever considered to be attractive to him personally. In addition, Dave didn't quite know how to react: it was the first time another man told Dave that he was attractive in _that_ way. He felt good about it, if still slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm twenty-two," Dave offered, repeating his age from earlier, making eye-contact with Rod.

Rod gave Dave a knowing, more serious expression. "Sure you are."

Dave looked away from Rod, appearing suddenly nervous.

"Listen, Dave," Rod spoke again, quietly. "I'm not gonna bust you. You appear to be twenty-two, heck, looking at you, you could be twenty-five, but I know you're not. Just be careful. You seem like a good kid. Most of the guys here are good guys, but, like anywhere else, there's gonna be a few bad apples."

Dave nodded, looking up again at Rod.

Rod continued. "Looking at you, Dave, I'm sure you can take care of yourself, just be careful of whom you get mixed-up with, okay?"

"Yeah, well," Dave nodded again, trying to appear cool but feeling like he'd just been dissected. "I'm not here for anything tonight except trying to get a feel for this." Dave was silent for a moment. "Any advice?"

"I could give lots of advice," Rod began, "But here's the crucial stuff: keep doing what you're doing and you should be fine, don't let anyone buy you drinks, especially several drinks, because they might be expecting something in return, and if somebody gives you a weird vibe and you don't feel right about them, don't go beyond just talking with them." Rod addressed Dave's eyes which were trained on him as he listened intently to the older man. "Your instinct will get you only so far, so always err on the side of caution. When you leave, it's always a good idea if you exit the building when other people are leaving because you never know what trouble might be waiting for you in the parking lot. I can be a little paranoid, I guess, but you can't be too careful, Dave."

Dave smiled, more reserved, and looked back at Rod. "I appreciate it."

"Hey Rod, how's it going?"

Rod and Dave both looked up. The voice came from over Rod's far shoulder.

"Hey, Tom," Rod identified the person connected to the voice, giving him a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. "Going okay here. How was your week?"

"Oh, nothing big to report, just an average week," Tom answered.

Tom was a nice-looking guy with an average-thin stature, shorter than Dave, and appearing to be in his forties, though well-maintained and carrying his age well; he had a silvery salt-and-pepper beard which was closely-trimmed, framing a handsome smile; and he had sleepy-looking bedroom eyes which seemed an unconscious though undeniably endearing feature of his face. He was dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt, khaki pants, and a casual-dress leather jacket.

"Hey, Tom, meet Dave; Dave, this is my friend Tom."

Dave, smiled politely and reached across behind Rod with his right hand to shake hands with Tom. "Nice to meet you, Tom."

"Good to meet you too, Dave," Tom smiled friendly and wide, taking Dave's handshake.

"Where's the husband?" Rod asked Tom.

"He's around somewhere, probably saying hello to the people he hasn't seen in a while," Tom answered.

Dave's eyes perked at that, "How long have you and your partner been together, Tom?"

"Michael and I have been together twenty-five years this fall," Michael smiled proudly.

Dave smiled back, warmed by the concept of that kind of devotion. "Congratulations, Tom. Silver anniversary then?"

"Yeah, oh, here's Michael now," Tom announced.

Michael was a little shorter and somewhat thicker-built than Tom. He wore glasses and had a friendly, inviting face. He was dressed casually also, in a sweater, and, likewise, wore a casual leather jacket, though his was a lighter, warmer brown color than was Tom's.

"Hey, Michael," Tom announced, motioning toward the far end of the bar, "This is Dave, you already know Rod." Michael smiled and shook hands with both seated men. "I just told Dave about our twenty-fifth."

"Yeah, congratulations on that, Michael," Dave said, smiling enthusiastically.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Dave, and thank you," Michael said, smiling brightly.

"So what brings you two out tonight?" Rod asked the couple.

"Well," Tom began, "we didn't feel like cooking on a Friday night, so, we went out for dinner and thought we'd stop by on the way home to say hello to some people."

"We won't be staying long," Michael added, "just a couple of drinks, run into some friends, then back home for the night."

Dave nodded, "Well, it's a pleasure to have met you two."

"Same, Dave," Tom spoke, Michael smiled and nodded agreement. "Hopefully, we'll see you around again."

With that, Tom and Michael left the bar area to another part of the room. Dave turned back to face the bar, smiling to himself. Rod was still sitting next to Dave, but facing outward, back to the bar. Dave still felt slight jitters, but he'd had been calmed immensely by having talked to these people, people he didn't even know existed a mere twenty minutes before.

"Hey, Dave, be good," Rod said, standing from his stool. "I'm gonna go say hello to some other people across the room. I'm sure I'll see you again in a few."

Dave nodded. "Okay, Rod."

Dave sat on the far bar stool, bouncing slightly, unconsciously to the beat of the pounding music. It occurred to him that the music wasn't even bothering him. He didn't feel in his element exactly, but he felt comfortable with himself. If the surroundings were less-than an ideal environment, he could certainly overlook that. He pulled his phone out of his shirt-pocket and checked the time. It was after eleven, and he didn't know how long it would take him to get home from this location.

Rod returned to his seat next to Dave. The bar was beginning to get more crowded. "Are you having another?" Rod asked Dave, motioning toward the empty beer bottle.

"Naw," Dave answered. "Starting to get late, and I should be thinking about the drive home. Plus, it's starting to get a little packed in here."

"Yeah, the Friday night crowd will start filling the place up right around now."

Tom and Michael walked up to the bar and slowed as they approached Rod and Dave. "We're hitting the road, fellas," Tom announced.

"Good running into you, Rod; and nice meeting you, Dave," Michael said, shaking their hands again.

"Thanks, nice meeting the both of you also," Dave said, smiling while looking up to them from his seat. "Actually, I was just about to cut out also, so I'm gonna follow on your way out." Dave stood.

"Sure thing, Dave," Tom smiled while shaking Dave's hand and patting him on the shoulder.

Dave turned around and faced Rod. "Thanks for hanging with me tonight, Rod. Catch you again sometime, I hope." Dave shook Rod's hand.

"Hope to see you again too, Dave," Rod said, "Take care, and drive safely."

The three men walked past the counter at the entryway through the short corridor, and out the front door into the parking lot.

"Do you have a long drive, Dave?" Tom asked.

"No, about twenty, twenty-five minutes. You?"

"About the same," Michael answered. "Drive safely, Dave."

"You too. Hope to run into you again, guys."

Dave climbed into his truck, started it up, and went on his way out of the parking lot, through a couple of turns, then back onto Route 81. He was home within twenty minutes: less time than he expected. His mom had already retired for the evening, but his dad was still up, watching the TV.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hi, David. Home for the night, I see?"

"Yeah, didn't want to be out too late."

"Were you out with Gretchen?"

"Ah, no, actually the guys from the football team. End-of-the-season hanging-out thing. Got boring for me." David shrugged.

Paul smiled. "Well, if you were bored and that means you came home early, well, then, it's potentially keeping you out of trouble. I can't complain about that."

David nodded and laughed back at Paul. "Well, I'm just probably gonna go upstairs and sleep. I have a fair amount of schoolwork I'll need to dive into tomorrow."

Paul nodded and smiled wider. "Well, then, good night, David."

"Good night, Dad."

David made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, got out of his clothes and dressed for bed. He lay there, on his bed for a while. He didn't feel tired. He felt somehow energized a little, but more calm than anxious. He'd had a pretty great experience. He went to a gay bar, and he met some genuine people there. Rod, though he'd just met him, seemed like a very caring guy; and Tom and Michael were the first committed gay couple he'd met. He knew such couples existed, but that was mostly in theory, stories and statistics he read on websites. He knew about Rachel Berry's dads, but he never met them. Here, he had faces and hard evidence to give truth to the hypothetical. And David entertained the thought, the warm abstract, that he'd be there someday. He'd have the devotion of a committed partner. The thought brought a smile to his face and a rush of warmth to his chest as he closed his eyes.

David, though, disliked the idea of lying to his dad about where he'd been. He wanted to be honest with his dad. These past few months since the end of his time at McKinley, he'd felt closer to his parents than he had in years. He wanted so much for them to know him for who he is in no uncertain terms. He felt, more than he ever did, that the time was nearing when he could tell them.

He eventually drifted into untroubled sleep: the feelings of warmth and security overcoming the slighter uncertainty he was feeling. He slept soundly and woke early on a Saturday morning.

 

* * *

 

_Online Chat, Saturday October 22_

comradeK: _hi. thanks for responding to my ad and chatting with me._

flyguy2010: _hi there. no problem._

comradeK: _what made you reply to my ad?_

flyguy2010: _it reminded me of how i felt when i was in high school. thought maybe i could help._

comradeK: _i appreciate that. i am still in high school. dave here, btw._

flyguy2010: _jay here. nice to meet you, dave._

comradeK: _thanks, nice to meet you too. i guess you're in the allen county area?_

flyguy2010: _actually, i'm from indiana, outside of gary, but i'm in the air force stationed at the base in dayton._

comradeK: _ok, that's how you saw my ad, i guess._

flyguy2010: _yes._

comradeK: _so, how old are you?_

flyguy2010: _i just turned 20. i signed up for the air force just out of high school. it was still dadt then._

comradeK: _were you out in high school?_

flyguy2010: _no. i wasn't ready for that and i don't think the school was ready for that. i was an athletic guy, football team, track team. i don't think it would have gone over so well._

comradeK: _i am dealing with the same right now. football team, a lot of my friends are those guys too, and it does not seem like they would take my coming out well._

flyguy2010: _same here. i actually waited for the repeal of dadt to come out._

comradeK: _even to your family?_

flyguy2010: _well, sort of. i came out to them in the late summer when it was pretty certain that dadt was going to end._

comradeK: _how did they take it? i think about doing that all the time but i'm not there yet._

flyguy2010: _i'd already been in the military for almost a year, and i was on a short leave visiting home. my parents were okay with it. i can't say it was perfect or happy or anything, but they said they respected me and understood that it must have been difficult for me. they're cool with it now._

comradeK: _i think that's how it will go for me. i feel pretty close to my parents right now. there were a couple of times i almost told my dad, but i just couldn't go that far yet._

flyguy2010: _only you will know when that time is right. no one can make that call for you, dave._

comradeK: _i've come a long way, actually. a year ago, i'd fly into a rage if i even thought about admitting it to myself. now i'm almost ready to tell my parents._

flyguy2010: _i know that feeling. it sounds like you progressed a lot faster than i did._

comradeK: _maybe, but i had a lot of bad behavior to make up for. when i accepted myself, i thought that the faster i set my behavior toward others right, the easier my coming out might be._

flyguy2010: _how so?_

comradeK: _it wouldn't make any sense for a hateful person to expect acceptance, would it?_

flyguy2010: _i_ _guess not, now that you mention it._

comradeK: _has the military changed much since dadt ended?_

flyguy2010: _yes. in the lead-up to it, it seemed like there would be a lot of backlash, but once it happened, things have been ok. a lot of it depends upon the individuals you work with and the commanders you're under because those opinions are going to change with the individual. personally, the people around me are supportive. there were no big coming out parties here in dayton, but there were no visible moves against it here either. i have chatted with military friends who are still very much closeted because they don't feel comfortable being open about it around the guys they deal with every day. i guess someone needs to consider the behavior of those around them and decide for themselves if it's a good idea. if i should get transferred, i have no idea how it will go over in a new environment._

comradeK: _i guess you can't expect it to fix everything._

flyguy2010: _well, after 50 years of civil rights legislation, there's still racism. ending dadt isn't going to end ignorance overnight._

comradeK: _but it's a step in the right direction, right?_

flyguy2010: _definitely. i wouldn't go back now if i could, and i don't think it can anyway. a majority of the public supports the repeal of dadt. a majority of the military supports it also. i don't think any legislator is going to mess with trying to remove a popular policy._

comradeK: _has it made a difference for you personally, like in your everyday life?_

flyguy2010: _not really, honestly. i mean, i'm surrounded with straight men all day. it's not like i'm gonna be hitting on them or anything. i think the knowledge that i'm gay has kinda stopped their joking around about calling things "gay" and stuff, but that never really bugged me much anyway. i can't say i made closer friends with anyone since i came out, but it wasn't a hostile situation before that either. it does feel better that i don't need to cover my tracks or hide anything, tho. the close friends i had before are still my close friends. stuff like that didn't change for me._

comradeK: _that's good to know._

flyguy2010: _hey, i gotta run. contact me any time if you have any questions or you just wanna chat. i hope everything goes alright with you, and i hope things i said might be useful for you._

comradeK: _thanks, jay. it was definitely good to chat with you. have a good weekend._

flyguy2010: _thanks, dave. take care._

 

* * *

  

"Where did you run off to Friday night?" Carl posed the question as he and Nick flanked Dave while he visited his locker before homeroom. Dave, however, stood facing forward into his locker, nearly ignoring the two of them.

"I got a phone call and had to leave," Dave replied to both boys, turning neither his attention nor his gaze from his locker. "How late did you guys stay? Everyone got home okay, right?"

"Yeah, we all got home alright," Carl said as Nick stood silent. "We left around one. Y'know, you're not much fun, Karofsky."

Dave turned around to face Carl and Nick as he shut his locker; they backed away as he turned. "Well, then, next time, invite someone who's fun. I told you ahead of time that it wasn't going to be my thing, and I can't apologize for that."

Second period found Dave heading to the library to use his free study period. He'd look for Johnno; but, even if Johnno wasn't there, he'd rather be by himself than with the other guys from the football team. He had a fair amount of work to get started on with his history project and Calculus homework assigned the previous period. Entering the library, he saw Johnno sitting at the table where he'd been previously. Waving in Johnno's direction, Dave took the chair on the side opposite from Johnno. Johnno smiled as Dave seated himself.

"Hey, Karofsky," Johnno greeted Dave.

"Hey, Johnno, how have you been?"

Johnno nodded. "Good...good. Yourself? Did you go out with Nick and the guys Friday night?"

"Yeah, that was the definite low-point of my weekend, but it wasn't a total loss because now, like every other guy in Lima, I have a Harrison Lodge story, even if my own personal one is pretty tame: 'uh, yeah, I went to that nasty cesspool known as the Harrison Lodge, my friends got drunk, and I left early'."

Johnno laughed. "Yeah, every creepy uncle has a story about how great Harrison Lodge is, and every normal guy has a story about how unremarkable it is."

Dave shrugged and smiled, eyes wide: "I guess that makes me normal, then."

"So, have you talked to Gretchen any more since last week?" Dave changed the subject.

"Ah, I'm just saying hello to her when I see her," Johnno answered. "You're right, she does seem really nice; and thanks for 'officially introducing' us the other day." Johnno flashed finger-quotes appropriately.

"Hey, you'll do okay. I think you scored some points with that rather-read-than-watch-dumb-TV comment."

Johnno smiled at that. "I'll be blunt, I'm still kinda shy around her."

"Well," Dave added, "she'd have eaten you alive by now if she didn't like you, Johnno; you're doing something right."

"When does basketball practice start?" Dave asked, shifting conversational gears again.

"Tryouts are the week after Thanksgiving, but practice starts in two weeks."

"Since I haven't been lifting second period like I was, and football practice is over, I was thinking of using the weight room after school. You have anything going on after school before basketball practice starts?"

"No," Johnno answered, "nothing going on with me."

"You wanna get together and lift after school until basketball starts? We can spot for each other, and I won't hafta deal with those other guys who get on my nerves."

Johnno laughed. "I could deal with getting some time in the weight room myself, and, yeah, those jackasses get on my nerves also."

"So, meet you there after school today?" Dave asked.

"Yep, that works."

"Actually, meet me at my friend Sean's locker," Dave added. "That way, you can say hello to Gretchen before we hit the weight room."

Johnno smiled wide and nodded. "Good idea, Karofsky." His face straightened a bit. "I appreciate you doing this for me, even if nothing comes out of it."

Dave smiled back. "Hey, Johnno, we're friends, right? Friends do that kinda stuff for each other. Oh, yeah, and I'm friends with Gretchen too. So just keep in mind, if one of those other guys was into Gretchen and not you, there's no way I'd be doing this." Dave shook his head with that last part. "You're a good guy. I totally approve of you going out with my friend."

After the final bell rang for the day, Dave made sure to catch up with Gretchen while she was still at her locker.

"Hey, Gretchen, what's going on?" Dave asked, a little louder than normal for him.

"Hi, Dave. Just grabbing my stuff on my way to Sean's locker. What are you up to?" Gretchen slammed her locker shut and the two began to walk in the direction of Sean's locker.

"I'm gonna meet up with Johnno. Now that football season's done, we're gonna use the weight room after school without all of those other guys who get on our nerves sometimes."

"You mean the guys that make people like you and Johnno look like fine, upstanding citizens?"

Dave paused, stunned expression on his face. "Gretchen! I thought I was a fine, upstanding citizen in your opinion!"

Gretchen giggled. "Relax, Dave. You know I think you're the bee's knees."

As they approached Sean's locker, both were a little surprised to see Johnno there already and talking with Sean, back facing Dave and Gretchen's direction. Johnno's backpack was slung over one shoulder, and his gym bag was lying on floor just behind the place where he stood.

"Hey, guys, what's going on?" Dave greeted. "Sean, Johnno."

"We're just talking about our classes," Sean replied.

"Yeah," Johnno explained, "he was filling me in on what I can expect in the AP English class next year."

"Hey, guys," Randy said as he happened to be walking briskly by on his way out of the building. "Karofsky, Johnno, what are you guys up to?"

"We were gonna hang and use the weight room while it's empty now that football season is done," Dave explained.

"Oh, cool," Randy said. "Can I join you guys sometime?"

Dave was skeptical, but he didn't want to exclude him. Randy seemed like a decent guy most of the time. He looked at Johnno's face searching for his reading on the question. Johnno appeared agreeable enough. "Sure, Randy. Not sure if we're gonna do this every day, but check with one of us, and we'll let you know. You can join us right now if you like."

"I would if I had my gym clothes with me, but I don't," Randy answered. "Some time later this week, then, I'll hang after school with you guys."

"Sounds good," Randy said, heading for the exit door.

"Hey, is Gretchen around?" Johnno asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"She was right with me," Dave said, looking around.

"I've been right here the whole time guys," she said with a smug expression on her face, appearing from just behind Johnno's far side.

Dave gave her a mock-perplexed expression. "You're, like, invisible sometimes, like you have a superpower or something."

"Okay, Dave," Gretchen scolded, worried expression, "with that last remark, it's really obvious that you've been hanging with Sean and his geek-posse for entirely too long."

Dave's expression transformed to subtle annoyance. "It's better than the alternative."

Johnno laughed at Gretchen's good-humored dressing-down of Dave.

"Alright," Dave said, "with that I am going to get moving to the weight room."

Johnno followed in Dave's direction.

"See both of you tomorrow," Dave said, retreating to the direction of the locker room.

Johnno waved, "Later, Gretchen; later, Sean!"

As they walked into the locker room, Dave said to Johnno, "Okay, I will obviously take verbal abuse from Gretchen if it helps your cause."

Johnno grinned back. "Sorry for laughing."

"No," Dave corrected. "It's good that you did because it was the perfect opportunity for Gretchen to see that you get her humor. I'd have hated to see that opportunity squandered."

Johnno unzipped his gym bag while Dave continued to ramble. "See, if you didn't laugh at that it would have shown that you either didn't get her or you weren't able to zero-in on her...are you even listening to me?"

Dave turned around to see Johnno looking at a piece of sketchbook paper which he'd just pulled out of his gym bag. "What's that?" Dave asked.

Dave walked over and stood beside Johnno who held the page in such a manner that Dave could see it also. It was one of Gretchen's drawings depicting Johnno in a darkened room sitting at a table. On the table was a stack of books and a candle illuminating the scene: stark contrast, chiaroscuro. Johnno was holding a skull in his hand, Hamlet-style, with an intense expression. The likeness was unmistakable.

Dave spoke, softly but clearly. "Johnno. She digs you, dude." Dave placed his hand on Johnno's shoulder, kneaded, and patted it firmly.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 6,200

**Chapter 15**

 

**Thursday March 1  
** **Nine Days after David's suicide attempt**

Kurt: _Good morning, David. How are you this morning?_ 7:08 AM

The time was early, but Kurt assumed that David would be awake given his energy level the previous day.

Kurt woke feeling vastly improved over the hazy state with which he greeted the last morning. He felt, in fact, normal. He had time for his full morning ritual and a grapefruit for breakfast. He texted David just before he left the house for school, expecting a fairly quick reply but forgetting about it when the reply didn't arrive promptly.

In fact, he'd forgotten about it completely by the time his set-to-silent phone vibrated in his pocket as his first-period class was nearing an end.

David: _Hi Kurt. Doing ok._ 8:53 AM

Surprised not only that he had forgotten all about the fact that he hadn't received a response from David sooner, but also surprised that over ninety minutes had passed since he had originally texted David, Kurt was at a loss. He didn't hear from David last night; and David obviously felt no urgency to reply to Kurt's text of earlier today; and Kurt was obviously not watching his phone, pining for a reply.

Something else struck Kurt this morning. He had gotten up out of bed, gone through his morning routine, ate a quick breakfast, texted David, and arrived at school after which he visited his locker and trotted his way over to Blaine's locker as this was his regular morning routine unless Blaine arrived at Kurt's locker first. The thought of Blaine had not even crossed Kurt's mind until it was time for that part of his morning ritual. Blaine had somehow been reduced to an item on a checklist. They just had a nice dinner together the previous evening with laughter, pointless channel-surfing, music, more laughter, and cuddling, but it seemed like something that happened last week. Or last month. The warmth of his time last night with Blaine was already a memory somehow faded by the span of approximately twelve hours.

Kurt pecked a response to David's message into his phone, recalling, still, the feeling he felt earlier that morning, fresh from the night before: the disappointment that David had not texted or called him last night.

Kurt: _An hour and forty-five minutes to reply to my text? How did your appointment go yesterday?_ 8:54 AM

Now, that's odd, Kurt thought. He'd had a text-conversation with David yesterday morning. He felt bothered, almost angered, by the memories of the conversation he'd had with David the prior evening. He saw Blaine last night, had dinner with him, flirted with him, touched him, held him, kissed him, and told him that he loved him. One of the first things Kurt thought of this morning was the way he was disheartened by his not having heard from David last night; but Blaine didn't even rate in Kurt's thoughts until it was time to make the required appearance. The text alert shook Kurt out of his thoughts.

David: _Sorry about the delay._ 8:58 AM

David: _Could you just call me later today when you're done with school?_ 8:59 AM

Kurt was somewhat irked at the brevity of David's responses. The bell signalling the end of the class rang; Kurt stayed remained seated long enough to peck out and send a response.

Kurt: _Sure. Maybe around 4?_ 9:00 AM

Then the empathetic part of Kurt's mind, the part that's prone to worry, kicked into gear. Maybe David was having problems. Of course, maybe David was busy working with his tutor on his lessons. Whatever the case, he'd talk to David this afternoon, and there was no point in thinking about it now. The phone sounded again.

David: _4 is good._ 9:01 AM

Brevity again. Irked again.

David: _Thank you, Kurt._ 9:01 AM

Why is it, Kurt thought, that politeness, like being thanked, all-of-a-sudden changes his position from one which makes him want to distance himself from David to one which makes him want to get closer? It's probably, Kurt decided, because he knew that David meant it. When David was being sincere, Kurt could hear it in the tone of David's voice and the expression on David's face. Of course, these things, tone of voice and facial expression, couldn't be conveyed by a text message, but Kurt had seen these things enough in person to know they were implied.

Kurt stood at his locker, exchanging one notebook for another and a textbook when he felt a polite tap on his shoulder. Kurt turned to see a stocky boy with curly, unkempt blonde hair wearing a varsity jacket. Kurt had seen him around the school, but wasn't sure of his name.

"Hey," the boy spoke softly, intentionally hushed, appearing and sounding nervous, "I heard that you've talked to Karofsky."

Kurt answered, sounding matter-of-fact, "Yes, that's true."

"How's he doing?"

"He's doing better than I'd have expected. You were on the football team with him last year?"

"Uh, yeah," the boy responded, casting his gaze downward, jittery.

"You know, he'd probably like to hear from you."

The boy continued to look down, blank, avoiding Kurt's eyes.

"Listen to me, please," Kurt spoke, losing the hard edge from his voice. "David has had a very difficult struggle, but he seems to be coming back just fine. It would mean something to him if he knew that his friends haven't deserted him. I think it would mean a great deal to him, actually."

The boy lifted his head and looked at Kurt, sad uncertainty in his eyes. "I can't."

"Why not?" Kurt was being surprisingly patient with this guy who probably slushied Kurt and his friends multiple times.

"I wouldn't know what to say," the boy hung his head again.

"Why?"

The boy shook his head, clearly uncomfortable about what he was trying to say. "Karofsky and I were really good friends..."

Kurt interjected, "Well, then, that's an even bigger reason why it might be good for him to hear from you."

The boy appeared pained as he continued. "We used to, you know..."

Kurt became audibly short, "Antagonize and make rude jokes about people like me?"

"Yeah," the boy said, finally, sounding defeated.

"What's your name?" Kurt asked.

"Chris."

"It's important for you to know, Chris, that this didn't happen to David overnight. He didn't just wake up gay one day. He was struggling with this the whole time he was at here at McKinley. He didn't think his friends would accept that part of him." Kurt regained his patient voice as Blaine approached. "Chris, you and David were friends. Do you remember having good times with him? Aside from tormenting certain members of the student body, what good times do you remember having with David?"

"Playing football, hanging out after the games. Sometimes we'd pick up a game with friends. Video games. Watching movies."

Kurt interjected again as Chris was about to add to the list. "David would still enjoy doing most, if not all, of those things with you, Chris. He's still the same David Karofsky who was your friend. I understand that you guys got your kicks making ignorant jokes about people like me, but maybe, if David's friendship means something to you, and we wouldn't be having this conversation if it didn't, you can find it in yourself be alright with who he is." Kurt's voice lowered. "And then accept that about everyone else it applies to. And grow a little."

Chris nodded, seeming on the verge of tears. "Could you please just tell him that Chris Strando asked about him?"

Kurt nodded. "Sure. He'll appreciate hearing that, but I'm sure he'd appreciate it even more if heard from you personally."

Chris walked away. Kurt shook his head as he closed his locker.

"Are you getting that kinda thing often?" Blaine asked quietly.

"People asking about David? A few. I guess not everyone knows that I've been talking to him. Some people probably don't remember him as anything other than the troublemaker he was. The thing is, I think the more of David's friends who reconnect with him, the better for David, the less alone he'll feel." _And maybe Kurt wouldn't feel so obligated_ , Kurt wanted to add but did not.

"Were you planning on going to go see him tonight?" Blaine asked.

"No, I was just going to call him after school. I received some very short texts from him earlier today. He must have been busy with something."

"I'd guess that he has, like, over a week of schoolwork to catch up with, he's probably going to be pretty occupied."

The remainder of Kurt's school-day was unremarkable. He arrived home well-before four o'clock, briefly thinking about what he might make for dinner, and texted David to say that he was home and could talk any time. Kurt's phone rang after a few minutes.

"Good afternoon, David," Kurt greeted politely with an air of cheer as he answered the call.

"Hi Kurt," David was quiet and low-pitched; brief and labored-sounding.

"How are you today?" Kurt asked, paying no mind to the contrast in David's voice from his apparent demeanor the prior day.

"Ah. I'm foggy. The psychiatrist has me on antidepressants."

"They usually take a couple of weeks to start working," Kurt said, trying to keep the tone positive. "They need to work through your system."

"That's what the doctor said." David replied. "I hope this is just some initial reaction thing. I don't know if I can deal with feeling like this for two weeks."

Silence. Not comfortable.

"David," Kurt began, "you tried to take your own life; the initial response of anyone might be pretty obvious that you're depressed."

"Um, Kurt," Dave sounding more himself, slightly more intense and focused, "I didn't feel depressed." More silence. "I'm feeling frustrated right now, though. I can't concentrate on my school work, I don't feel like I have much energy, but I'm not tired. This sucks. Sometimes I shake my head thinking I'm gonna be able to shake this haze out of me. I was lifting for a while today, and that got my adrenaline going. That helped for a while, but a couple of minutes after I stopped, I got all foggy in the head again."

"David," Kurt sounded sympathetic, affected, but his sympathy was genuine just the same, "is there anything I can do?"

"No. I'm dealing with this. I hope this clears up so I can make progress on my school work. Rupert was here for a few hours today. He's a really nice guy, seems to know his stuff, but he seemed a little impatient with me today."

"He knows what's going on, right?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, he knew what he was walking into. Seemed fine with that." David was silent for a few seconds, his speech more measured, less fluid than usual. "Kurt, I really don't think I'm depressed, not in a traditional, clinical sense. I did something really rash. It was a gut-reaction. I can't say I'm totally alright, but I think I'd gotten all the crap out of my head sufficiently to function before these meds. The thing is, if I don't get this school stuff taken care of and I can't graduate on time, then I will be depressed for real. This is very frustrating, Kurt."

"How's your dad dealing with it?" Kurt asked.

"He's supportive, like he's been. As far as this psychiatrist thing is, though, he's out of his depth. I asked him if he thought I was depressed before I started these meds. He said that he didn't think so. Yesterday morning, when I was all awake and energetic early, he said I seemed like I was bouncing back, and that was making it easier for him. He can see that, from yesterday to today, I'm just different."

Kurt exhaled loudly into the phone, a near-sigh of worry into the phone. "David, I'm still getting to know you. For all the time that we've known each other, we've really only spent a few concentrated hours getting into each other's heads, if that. I can see that you think a lot. Maybe your mind could benefit from not working so much for a while."

"Mmmph. I think I need to be thinking, Kurt. I think my mind needs to be fed and it needs to work. That's part of me also, as much a part of me as being gay or anything else."

Kurt nodded, understanding, somehow illuminated by the comment: it made sense. It was David. "Oh, I'm supposed to tell you that Chris Strando asked how you were doing."

"Oh yeah?" David's tone lifted upon hearing this. "That’s cool. Maybe he hasn't disowned me."

"David, he cared about you enough to flag me down in the halls and ask about you. I spoke with him for a few minutes. His concern wasn't something that could be faked."

David exhaled loudly, audible over the phone. "I don't know how to feel about those guys. I thought I was friends with all of them. I thought Azimio was my best friend, you know? I came out to him when things were going bad for me. I really wanted someone to talk with, someone that wouldn't turn on me. He turned his back on me, Kurt, and it fucking hurt. I thought our friendship meant something bigger than that."

Kurt held back the urge to sniff, thinking it was probably the same time David had been calling and he was ignoring David's calls. The feeling stung Kurt. "David, I know it's awful. Chris isn't the same person as Azimio, though, and there are people who are going to want to remain your friends." Kurt was very aware of how heavy this conversation had become. "You're not crying, I hope. You were talking about that the other evening, how much you've been crying."

David nearly laughed. "Yesterday, I was the furthest from feeling sad or down or bad about anything. It was like I was ready to take on whatever came at me. I started these pills when I got home in the afternoon. By six o'clock, I was like a zombie. No, I didn't feel anywhere near crying yesterday morning. Since last night, I wouldn't have been able to cry if I felt like it. It's like I'm fucking numb, Kurt."

"Are you going to be okay tonight, David?"

Near laughter again, the futile kind. "Yeah, Kurt. I'm not gonna do anything crazy. I hope I'm past that, like, forever. This is my next thing I gotta get past. It's gonna get me down, but I don't feel like I did before. I know my dad's here if I need anything, and he's great to talk with even if I feel all doped-up like I do right now." David paused for a moment. "And I know I can count on you."

Another silence passed. Kurt was felt both warmed and pressured by that last part.

David continued. "Talking to my dad and talking to you: I always feel good after talking to either one of you."

At this, Kurt smiled, definitely warmed.

"Oh, you sent a friend request to Finn for me," David mentioned. "Thanks for that. I'm looking forward to seeing him sometime, hopefully in the near future."

"You're welcome," Kurt answered, feeling better. "Finn and I butt heads sometimes, but he's a great guy. He's looking forward to seeing you at some point also."

A long span of uncertain silence followed. Barely audible breathing on both sides.

"I should probably get going," David said finally, "let you get to what you're doing, and, maybe, I'll have something to eat."

"Okay, David. Don't hesitate to call or text me for any reason. Oh, is there anything you'd like for me to pass on to Chris for you?"

"Just tell him that I said 'hey'. If he wants my number or something, you can give it to him."

"Oh," Kurt said, nearly exclaiming, "Blaine and I send our thanks for introducing us to Judas Priest."

"Did you like it, then?" David asked, sounding suddenly animated.

"It will probably never make Kurt Hummel's top-ten playlist, but it had a kind-of mechanical intensity to it; and that guy can legitimately sing." David could hear Kurt's smile over through his words. "Finn was a bit confused, but it's fun to mess with him sometimes."

"Another good piece of knowledge to have in your arsenal," David chuckled slightly. "I'm glad you got something out of it."

"Your intelligence and insights are definitely appreciated, David."

"Cool," David drew the word out slightly, "with that, I'm going to let you go."

"Okay, goodbye, David."

"Later. Talk to you soon."

Kurt ended the call, and busied himself with the task of feeding himself dinner. Not five minutes after pulling some fresh vegetables out of the refrigerator and putting them under the spigot to rinse, he heard his phone's text alert.

David: _Thank you for calling, Kurt._ 4:16 PM

Kurt quickly pecked a reply.

Kurt: _You're welcome. It's what friends do for each other._ 4:17 PM

Kurt ate a rather large salad and bruschetta which he improvised on the spot, rinsed the dishes, and placed them in the dishwasher. He had made another piece of bruschetta which he did not bake: it was sitting in the refrigerator along with a fair amount of leftover salad in case Finn should be looking for dinner when he arrived home. It was a rather light homework night, but Kurt still had some music to work on as well as to decide on a suitable song for his upcoming NYADA audition.

He sent Blaine a text message. Blaine replied back that he needed to get some homework done and that he'd call later when he was finished. It was just past seven o'clock, and Kurt was bored. He missed his dad and Carole, even though they'd be in for the weekend. Kurt and Finn, though close, really didn't hang out much outside of school, but if he was home, Kurt would at least have the distraction of background noise or simply another presence in the house.

But all of these things which constituted a tedium of boredom for Kurt were really an excuse, and Kurt knew it. Damn, if he didn't miss David's company. And Kurt felt that strange. And wrong on some level. Well, maybe not. He tried Blaine first, and Blaine was busy. Kurt's homework was done. Last night had been a testament that there wasn't a decent, watchable program on television anywhere for foreseeable weeks. He really didn't feel like working on his music. He was temporarily burned-out on searching for material for his audition.

But when David talked, he said interesting things. His point-of-view was so starkly different than Kurt's that it was sometimes difficult for Kurt to deal with, but this stuff was sticking to Kurt. And David wasn't really at his best today. Maybe receiving a text message from someone would help him realize that he's not alone.

Kurt: _Hi, David. I hope you're feeling better than you were earlier. Maybe eating dinner helped?_ 7:12 PM

Over an hour had passed before Kurt received a reply from David. In the meantime, Kurt was scanning youtube videos for a potential audition song. The idea of, maybe, a highly-theatrical non-musical-theater song occurred to him. Certainly, most of Jim Steinman's songs are so theatrical that they sounded like they existed just to be part of some show yet-to-exist.

David: _Hey, Kurt. Is it cool if I call?_ 8:34 PM

Kurt saved David the trouble and called him.

"Hi Kurt." David sounded a little lazy, but definitely more awake than he did at the start of their last conversation.

"Good evening, David," Kurt greeted, "You're sounding better than you did earlier."

"Yeah, thanks. I was talking on the phone with Sean when you texted me. He was just getting me up-to-speed on things at Thurston."

"Well, it must have been a good conversation," Kurt observed, "you sound more yourself than you did."

David chuckled. "I think the meds are wearing off for the day. Sean's a good friend. Like my dad and you, I feel good after talking to him. The rest of that crowd too, generally. Some of them I don't know so well, but they've always been good to hang with."

A silence passed.

"You miss them," Kurt said, a statement, not a question.

Another silence.

"Yeah," David snapped the answer out quickly after the silence, then let out a loud, audible breath.

"They probably miss you too, David," Kurt offered, "no, David, I am sure they miss you."

"Yeah, Sean says so. He says they miss seeing me."

"I think you should get together with those people sometime," Kurt suggested. "I think they want to reconnect with you, David."

"Yeah, me too. I'll get together with them. I need some time, though. Things were strange toward the end. There's no way to go back and fix that."

"I don't think you need to fix anything, David. Don't underestimate your friends. If they're willing to stick by you, if they're willing to reconnect with you after all that's happened, they obviously value your friendship."

"I feel like I wronged them by blowing them off for months. I don't know how I'd right that."

"Well, David," Kurt spoke. "Once again, I think you're underestimating their capacity to understand. Think about how you and me are talking right now. I'd have never thought this was possible a year ago."

Silence.

Finally David said, "With you, it was so different, Kurt."

"How was it different with me except that you were smacking me around and trying to make me miserable whereas with these other people you just stopped hanging around with them? I'd think that the former would be more difficult to rectify than the latter."

"Because you knew," David blurted out, feeling pushed into a corner.

A silence passed. Kurt breathed progressively louder, and he knew the intense expression that was likely on David's face: part defiance, part hurt.

"Wait a minute," Kurt finally spoke. "You're telling me that the reason why you and I are friends is because you thought that I was holding something over your head? You wouldn't have tried to make peace with me otherwise?"

"That was almost a year ago, Kurt, I'm a different person now, and, yeah, I guess that was true enough at the time. And yeah, it sucks to admit that, but it's the truth."

"You bastard." Kurt sounded truly disgusted.

"Kurt, do you want me to apologize to you again? Because I will. What's important to me here is that you're in my life now. I hope you like having me as part of your life; if you do, what does it matter how we arrived to this point?"

Kurt didn't know what to say exactly. His gut reaction was to be angry, but he knew that if this conversation ended that way, David would mentally beat himself up for the rest of the night; and Kurt wouldn't feel good about that regardless of the anger that admission caused in him. Kurt appreciated how open and real David was; and Kurt felt that reacting hostilely might be defeating to David and push him back a few notches. Kurt would not have felt right about that at all though he might have had some fleeting sense of gratification-through-tough-love, revenge, maybe. Kurt couldn't do that, though. This was someone who was trying to rebuild himself, and he was laying himself bare before Kurt. David, through his honestly, made himself completely vulnerable, and Kurt couldn't find it in himself to violate that.

"You're right, David," Kurt finally said, in a soft voice with a firm tone. "I like you for many reasons; and, for that, it really doesn't matter what got us here. What matters is that we're here."

"Thank you, Kurt," David replied, but his voice was weak and scratchy. He was crying silently on his end of the phone.

Damn. Kurt hated knowing that he'd caused David to cry.

"You, know," David said, not feeling the need to try to hide the fact any longer, "it doesn't feel so bad to cry after a day-and-a-half of being too numb to feel anything at all."

Kurt was relieved slightly, but needed to say something else. "David, you've mentioned before how self-centered you can be. Do you realize how selfish some of this makes you seem?"

"Yeah, I do. Sometimes it seems I can't be objective about my actions until after I'm staring at the mess I've made."

A silence passed, then David spoke, louder, sounding like his anger was building. "Dammit, yeah, I've been told all my life that I'm so fucking special. My parents gave me just about anything I wanted. Typical fucking only-child-center-of-their-world; so, while I'm not as outrageously spoiled as some people I've known, I end up thinking I'm not just the center of my parents' world, but the center of everyone's world. And I thought I was somehow entitled to whatever I wanted, and the fact that I grew into this big, tough guy made me feel even more entitled because I could muscle what I wanted out of people. Then...fuck." The last part sounded weak and defeated.

"Then, _what_?" Kurt asked, quietly, concerned.

"I couldn't keep my end of that bargain." It wasn't what he initially began to say, but it was true enough. "My parents gave me everything, and I return it by being a disappointment to them. My friends build me up and empower me to be the jackass that I was, and I turn out to be something less-than-human to them."

All of this seemed so logical to Kurt, but he was worried. This conversation was a step backward. "You don't still feel that way about yourself, do you, David? I mean, you're not a disappointment to your dad. You weren't that way at Thurston. You weren't even that way when I came back to McKinley, David."

David answered. "I'm trying to pull myself out of it."

"No, David, you _did_ pull yourself out of it," Kurt held forth. "It would help if you could forgive yourself all of your past behavior. I've forgiven you, David. You're imposing some penance upon yourself. Cut yourself some slack, really."

"Kurt, your words show me that you care," David explained. "I really need to motivate myself sometimes, and the fact that I wasn't able to do that today was very frustrating. And, yeah, I've been knocked down by things, maybe by myself mostly. And you can say that I've become a better person and that I've come a long way, but maybe I'm tougher on myself than you are. Maybe that's how I'm gonna motivate myself to get back on track and be a better person."

"You _are_ a better person, David. I don't think you need to work on that."

"No, but I have a lot of work to do regardless."

There was a period of silence. Then Kurt spoke.

"David, for whatever you feel you need to do to move yourself forward, I'll be here. I mean that. I won't deny that I have a difficult time when you berate yourself, and I really don't want to hear it any longer."

David exhaled loudly. "I'll try, Kurt, but I think I have a lot to make up for."

"Do you still think you owe me anything? Really?"

"Uh, Kurt, yeah I do, but I'm not going to talk about that now. For now, talking with you is really good for me, even if it's not the easiest thing for either of us sometimes."

"True, talking with you hasn't really been easy. Not yet, at least. But you're always getting me to think, and that's pretty incredible. You've got so much inside you that, every time we talk, I come away kinda floored by how your mind works. And I understand it, that's the part that really impresses me. It's so different from the way I think, but it makes sense."

"Kurt, I get a lot out of talking with you, but I'm pretty talked-out right now. I should probably look at some of my school work while I have some energy and I've lifted out of that haze."

"That's fine, David. I'm sure Blaine will be calling soon. He was working on homework before, but he's probably finished by now. Have a good night, David."

"Thanks again, Kurt. Goodbye."

Kurt ended the call. There was still no word from Blaine, though it wasn't terribly late; it was just a little before nine o'clock.

Kurt's mind was a little exhausted. He wasn't physically tired, but David was right. Talking like they were was mentally draining. Kurt turned his attention back to his laptop. Kurt checked his mail to find nothing of particular interest, but it wasn't long before his phone rang.

"Hello, Blaine," Kurt greeted, sounding pleasant and dreamy.

"Hi, Kurt. What are you up to?"

"I was talking to David a little while ago and searching for possible audition songs. How about you?"

"Like I said before, I had a ton of homework: big reading assignments, needed to start work on a paper for English class." Blaine sighed exhaustion. "Is it me, or is this time of year always like that?" He asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Well, we're just beyond the mid-terms, and half of the school year is over," Kurt answered anyway. "It's like the beginning of that second push into the rest of the year."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, sounding less-than-enthusiastic. "How's Karofsky doing tonight?"

"Well, he seemed okay tonight, well, better than he did this afternoon," Kurt glossed over the more difficult aspects of the earlier conversation.

"Why? What was wrong this afternoon?"

Kurt huffed. "His psychiatrist has him on antidepressants. He says that they're making him lethargic and unproductive. He doesn't think he can afford to be that way when he has so much work to do for school. I think he needs to give them a chance to start working if they're going to have the desired effect."

"Maybe he has a valid point, though," Blaine offered. "I know it's gotta be hard for a doctor to know how to approach a situation like Karofsky's. The stuff he needs to do for school should be taken into consideration, but preventing him from killing himself should take first priority."

"David says he's past that. I don't think he'd try something like that again. Honestly, I don't think he could put his dad through that again."

"I hope that's not the only reason," Blaine opined.

"I don't think that it is the only reason, but if it is, that's good enough," Kurt speculated. "Truly, I think David is past that point. He seemed so positive and motivated yesterday and the day before, and, despite the brain-fog he was complaining about today, I think he still is motivated enough to leave those events in his past."

Blaine changed the subject. "So, did you find any suitable audition songs?"

"Nothing definite, but I was thinking maybe something that sounds theatrical but isn't exactly a show-song. What do you think?"

"That sounds like an interesting idea." Blaine answered. "The admissions people are probably sick of hearing all those show-stopping spotlight songs anyway."

"I was thinking the same," Kurt said. "You're not going to believe this, but sometimes I get sick of those songs."

Blaine laughed. "You're right, I don't believe that."

Some silence passed as both Kurt and Blaine laughed.

"Well," Blaine spoke, "I'm pretty mentally-exhausted right now."

"You and me both, Blaine," Kurt empathized. "I should probably get some sleep, and I"m nowhere ready for bed," Kurt referred to his nightly skin-care regimen.

"I could fall asleep any moment, Kurt. Have a good night, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Blaine. I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt. Good night."

Kurt ended the call and connected his phone its charger before walking to his bathroom to prepare for the the night's slumber. Some fraction of an hour later, as he left the bathroom, evening ritual complete, he crawled into his bed, feeling comfortable enough. His mind, though, was somewhat restless with thoughts of the evening's conversations crossing his mind. He picked up his phone to find that a text message had arrived sometime when he was likely in the bathroom, too far to hear the alert sound.

David: _Talk to you tomorrow?_ 9:26 PM

Kurt smiled. There was something rewarding about the rapport he and David were developing. He typed a response, hoping David would see it as some minutes had passed since David's message was received.

Kurt: _That goes without saying, David._ 9:53 PM

Kurt put his phone back down on his nightstand and closed his eyes, now feeling somewhat more comfortable. It wouldn't be long before he slid into sleep. His phone's text alert signalled again.

David: _Thanks._ 9:55 PM

 

* * *

  

_Dammit, yeah, I've been told all my life that I'm so fucking special. My parents gave me just about anything I wanted. Typical fucking only-child-center-of-their-world; so, while I'm not as outrageously spoiled as some people I've known, I end up thinking I'm not just the center of my parents' world, but the center of everyone's world. And I thought I was somehow entitled to whatever I wanted, and the fact that I grew into this big, tough guy made me feel even more entitled because I could muscle what I wanted out of people. Then..._

David just laid his phone down after texting his thanks to Kurt, the evening's earlier conversation haunting his thoughts.

_Then you had to show up to turn my world upside-down, to show me how fuckng much of a fake I was._

That's how David would have completed the sentence had he not stopped himself. He didn't want Kurt to hear that, and he wasn't sure if it was for Kurt's sake or for his own; but he was relieved that he stopped himself where he did.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 9,000

**Chapter 16**

 

**Friday March 2**

As with the previous day, Kurt texted David fairly early in the day. He understood that David was having a difficult time adjusting to the antidepressants which the psychiatrist had prescribed. He would have liked to speak to David's father to get his reaction to how the drugs were affecting David, but he didn't know if it was his place to involve himself on that level. Kurt could also get in touch with Sean; he'd spoken with David the previous day also. Sean had probably spoken with David more concentrated hours than Kurt had, what with Sean and David having been friends at Thurston, seeing each other and presumably talking on some level every day. Kurt decided that he'd send Sean a message also; getting Sean's perspective couldn't hurt.

Kurt: _Good morning, David. Text me when you get a moment, and let me know how you're feeling today. Thanks._ 7:24 AM

Kurt: _Hi Sean. It's Kurt, David Karofsky's friend. I'd like to speak with you sometime later today, maybe this afternoon or tonight if that's okay. Send me a message and let me know. Thank you._ 7:27 AM

Kurt wasn't expecting immediate answers to either message. Sean was undoubtedly getting his school day started, and David wasn't held to a rigid schedule at this early point in the day. Kurt was sitting at his homeroom desk when his phone vibrated announcing a reply.

Sean: _Hi Kurt. Good to hear from you. I talked to Dave last night. We can talk later today, either between 4 and 6 or after 7. Just call._ 7:36 AM

Kurt sent a reply message in courtesy.

Kurt: _Thanks for getting back to me. You can expect a call from me. Until then, have a good day._ 7:38 AM

Wow, everyone's text messages are so polite, Kurt thought to himself. _That's gotta be David's fault_ , Kurt mused, jokingly, though true it was. He can't remember seeing 'thanks', 'thank you', or 'have a good day' used in text messages ever, not to mention fully-formed words. Whatever the motivation, David was polite, and that in itself was somehow charismatic, and it was catching.

David's reply came, as yesterday, close to nine o'clock.

David: _Hi Kurt. I'm better than I was this time yesterday, but that's not saying much. You can call this afternoon or tonight if you like._ 8:54 AM

Kurt: _Okay, David. I'll call you later today._ 8:55 AM

David: _Talk to you then. Thank you, Kurt._ 8:56 AM

As Kurt was making his way to his second-period class, he saw Chris Strando standing in the hall facing an open locker. As Kurt walked by, Chris shot Kurt an uncertain-but-benign expression over his shoulder. Kurt approached.

"Hi Chris," Kurt intoned, low and polite.

"Hi, um, Kurt?" Chris replied, sounding unsure if he actually knew Kurt's name exactly.

Kurt nodded as he approached closer. "David says 'hey'. He's glad that you asked about him."

"Yeah?" Chris's face brightened although his tone was hushed.

"I know he'd like to hear from you, Chris."

Chris huffed and looked back at Kurt, no verbal reaction.

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head, betraying a small amount of disgust as if he might have held some foolish hope in trying to reason with a brick wall, finally addressing Chris with his eyes. The reaction's implications were not missed on Chris.

"What are you afraid of, Chris?" Kurt's tone sounded as understanding as he could possibly render.

"I just hate thinking that he was so down that he'd, you know..." Chris shrugged. "And I'm not sure how I'd even start a conversation with him right now."

Kurt nodded, stand-offish, appearing to be suddenly low on patience. "David's doing okay. He's going to be getting better." Kurt began to walk away. "You can be part of that if you like," Kurt said markedly louder as his physical distance grew greater.

It was a Friday, and, even on the most tedious of Fridays, the hours of the school day seemed to consist of forty-eight or fifty-six minutes instead of the standard sixty. Kurt was eager for the school day to end; he was looking forward to seeing his dad and Carole for the weekend. Of course Kurt had plans to see Blaine on Saturday which had become almost a standing assumption. Kurt would often spend a fair part of the day Sunday devoted to whatever weekend schoolwork he hadn't yet finished.

Unless there was an imminent big event on the schedule, the Friday afternoon Glee Club meetings were generally optional, but the entire show-choir almost always came to them because they lived for it on some level. Despite personal differences, the club brought them together for a short time, and, regardless of the regular infighting, the members of the club did respect and admire each other despite that they'd ever admit to anyone, especially each other in some cases. There was indeed an alchemical property to the music which worked on a spiritual level. After bidding Friday farewells to the rest of the club members, Kurt left the auditorium, hand-in-hand with Blaine, bouncing as he walked, on a musical high. The air was brisk, though warm for an Ohio March, and both boys were residually warm from the singing-and-dancing activity. They approached Kurt's car, and Kurt unlocked the doors, placing his bags on the passenger seat as he and Blaine spoke outside, leaning against the vehicle.

"Any big plans on your weekend schedule?" Kurt asked Blaine.

"Just you on Saturday, Kurt," Blaine spoke as he looked into Kurt's eyes, sincere and warm as always.

"Do you need to run immediately, or can you hang out for a while?"

"I really should get moving, but I can stay for a short while."

The cool air felt refreshing to them after the Glee Club meeting. Kurt smiled, looking down and away from Blaine's eyes as he often did: a kind-of nervous reaction he had from the beginning which he never entirely outgrew.

"What do you have going on for the weekend, Kurt?" Blaine asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Typical stuff. Dinner with Dad and Carole tonight. You tomorrow." With that, Kurt looked up at Blaine and smiled wider causing Blaine to smile back. Blaine instinctively pulled Kurt in for a kiss at this. It was quick and sweet, the slight sweaty dampness in their clothes radiating a steaminess as their bodies neared.

Kurt continued. "I plan to talk to David's friend Sean this afternoon to get his impression of how David is coming along. He talked to David yesterday also. And, of course, I'll touch base with David." Kurt paused. "And Sunday is the day for anything I didn't get to do Friday or Saturday."

Blaine nodded, the smile never leaving his face, his eyes not straying from Kurt. He pulled Kurt close for another quick kiss, then turned his head, looking out toward the rest of the parking lot, the football field beyond, and the line where the sky meets the earth. "I should be going, and it sounds like you have a busy Friday night also, Kurt," Blaine finally said.

Kurt smiled and nodded. "Good bye, Blaine. Talk to you later, sweetie."

Blaine smiled wider as he looked back at Kurt. "Good bye. Talk later tonight, and see you tomorrow."

Kurt climbed into his car, behind the wheel, and drove the short 10-minute drive to his house, stopping briefly at the grocery store. He still had about a half-hour before he'd call Sean so he busied himself tidying the house before Burt and Carole arrived back from DC. The house wasn't in a state of disarray, not by any means, but he wanted to make sure that any unnecessary clutter was either put in its correct place or hidden from immediate view. Unlike the Friday-night family dinners from just a few months ago, it was rare that a Friday dinner was cooked at the house. Unless Kurt was feeling ambitious, the family usually had food delivered from one of any five or six local restaurants. The pizza places were generally Kurt's preferred restaurants because he could get a big salad and have a couple of slices of pizza and be happy with that (of course, a piece of tiramisu was always welcome, but, depending upon the particular restaurant, the quality could be spotty); Finn preferred the pizza places also: he could put away an entire eight-cut by himself); and, though Kurt adored Chinese food, he always finished feeling like he'd eaten an entire week's grease allowance in thirty minutes.

It was ten minutes past four o'clock when Kurt dialed Sean from his contacts list.

"Hello, Kurt," Sean sounded pleasant, if not downright cheerful.

"Hello, Sean. How have you been since I met you earlier this week?"

"I've been good. Busy with school. How have you been?"

"I've been good, but not so busy with school. It's like I'm between periods of being busy or something."

Sean laughed quietly, "Well, enjoy it while you can."

"Thanks, I think." Kurt and Sean both laughed at that: both were high school seniors, and both knew exactly the spirit in which the comment was intended.

"So," Kurt changed the subject, "you spoke to David yesterday?"

"Yes, we had a pretty-long conversation last night," Sean answered.

"How did he seem to you?"

"Hmmmm," Sean questioned, "How do you mean?"

"Like did he seem to be acting like David? Did he seem to be in a decent mood?"

"Well, he told me about some medication he was taking, and he said it made him a little spacy. Honestly, he seemed pretty normal to me, he just sounded tired. For a while, I got used to seeing Dave come to school seeming very tired, so it really wasn't anything that seemed out-of-character. He maybe wasn't as quick-witted as he normally is, but he still made me laugh a few times."

"I felt the same," Kurt contributed. "I talked to him right after you did, I guess. He seemed to be himself, more-or-less. I spoke to him earlier in the day, though, and he seemed almost groggy. Still David, but it's like he couldn't shake the sleep out of his head. He was better later, after talking with you. He likes talking with you."

"Well, the whole bunch of us at school miss him. We missed him even when he was around, though. We all were wondering what was up with him and why he just wasn't really friendly with us any longer. He answered some of those questions for me the other night, though."

"Yeah, well, I think it would do him some good to reconnect with some of his other friends."

"I'm planning on seeing him regularly. I guess I don't need to bring any school stuff with me any longer, so I don't have that excuse, unfortunately."

Kurt found that slightly odd. "You know, Sean, David considers his friendship with you to be pretty important. I don't think you'd need an actual excuse to go to see him other than wanting to see him."

"Yeah, I know; and I had a good time hanging with him a few days ago," Sean said. "It was great meeting you also."

"Thank you, Sean," Kurt nodded as he spoke into his phone. "I'd like to hang out with you and David again, Sean." Kurt paused for a moment. "Tell me, Sean, does David ever seem really hard on himself when you're talking with him?"

"Uh..." Sean thought for a moment. "Not really. I mean, it's obvious he regrets not keeping in close touch with some of his friends and maybe regretting some of the ways he acted in the past, but he usually has a sense of humor about that. I mean, he's always making comments about himself having been a 'dumb jock' in the past, but they seem to be in a proper, humorous context. You know what, though, Gretchen said that she got into a couple of heavy talks with Dave, but she never gave me any indication of him beating himself up over anything. I have seen him get mad, and that can be scary. When he gets emotional about something, I don't think he goes half-way."

"Could you do me a favor, Sean?"

"Sure, but that depends on what it is," Sean said, joking, Kurt understood the humor.

"If you ever speak to David and he doesn't seem 'right' or like himself, could you please let me know?"

"Yeah, sure. I'd appreciate if you'd do the same, Kurt. We all really like Dave, and we'd all hate it if he was having a hard time again; and I don't think he'd really be forthcoming about it to us if he was."

Kurt thought for a moment. "Well, to be truthful, Sean, I really do think that David is beyond doing anything like he did a couple of weeks ago. And, if he felt comfortable enough to trust someone, I think he would be likely to come to that person if things got to that point again. He tried to come to me. I know that he tried at least one other person."

"Yeah, well, he'd been off of our radar for actually a couple of months at that point. Our History teacher asked me about him today. He said that he wanted to visit Dave to touch base with him on his AP project. I don't know if he's done that yet or not."

"I think that David will appreciate anyone who makes an effort to come to him and help him regardless if it's school business or friendship," Kurt offered. "I'm going to be giving David a call when I get off of the phone with you."

"Well, I don't want to hold you back or anything, Kurt, if you need to get going," Sean offered.

Kurt really didn't have much else to talk about; nor did he know Sean well enough to strike up a conversation, so he left it at that. "Well, I really do have some other things to get to also. Contact me any time you like, not just if something's up with David. And I think it would be good for him to see his friends. Do your friends want to see him?"

"It's weird. Everyone asks about him, but they all seem kinda strange about actually making the move to see him. Stigma of what happened, I guess."

"That must be it, because I'm seeing the same thing on my end," Kurt voiced understanding. "Well, Sean, thank you for talking, and contact me any time you like."

"Same to you, Kurt. Take care. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Sean."

Kurt ended the call and commenced to dialing David's number.

"Hello." The greeting was loud, short, and abrupt.

"Hi, David. How are you feeling today?"

"I'm okay." Short and loud again, silence after, no elaboration.

"Well that sounds good; better than yesterday, I gather?"

"Dealin' with it."

Silence passed again. Kurt could hear David's breathing on the other side. It sounded loud and impatient.

Kurt spoke. "David, is everything okay with you today?"

"Really, I'm okay Kurt. I spent all day on school work getting as much caught-up as I can. I kinda feel like a machine right now."

Kurt thought to refrain from pressing further. "Well, have a good evening. If you want to talk later or something, let me know."

"Sure."

"Goodbye, David."

"Later, Kurt."

That was it. The call went dead before Kurt had even moved his phone from his ear.

Kurt wasn't sure how he felt about the cold, abrupt conversation, but he wouldn't let it bother him either. He assumed that it was just a medication-related side-effect. He's sure David would text him a polite 'thank you' text message soon, but he was busy enough getting the house organized that he wasn't going to wait for it either. Instead, Kurt went into the kitchen and removed the clean contents of the dishwasher, placing the items into their appropriate cabinets and drawers.

Soon enough, Finn came home; and, not long after, Burt and Carole arrived also. Burt and Carole were looking forward to relaxing after the trip home, so, as Kurt had assumed, they ordered food to be delivered; though they decided to order sandwiches and salads from a new deli-style restaurant which had opened only a few weeks before. Kurt had a dinner-size salad and split a reuben sandwich with his Dad who also had a salad. Finn had a double-bacon-cheeseburger and fries; and Carole, wishing to show healthy-eating-solidarity with Burt and Kurt, ordered a large salad also.

After he and Finn cleaned up the dining-room table after dinner, Kurt retired to his bedroom, turned on his laptop, and dialed Blaine.

"Hi, Kurt," Blaine greeted.

"Hi, Blaine. How is everything tonight?"

"Finished dinner a while ago. Just surfing channels right now."

"Just finished clearing the table after dinner here, then came up to my room, turned on my laptop, and called you," Kurt said through a smile which would have appeared pleasant and welcoming could Blaine see it.

The two boys talked for nearly an hour about everything from fashion to music to possible songs for Kurt's NYADA audition to their inevitable plans for Saturday, finally deciding they'd start at the coffee shop and let the rest of the day follow as suited their mood of that moment. After they found they'd exhausted the surface of their minds, they agreed to let any possible future conversation rest until the next day.

"Okay, Blaine, see you at nine o'clock tomorrow morning for coffee, right?"

"I'll be there like I am every Saturday, and, as always, happy to see you," Blaine answered.

Kurt giggled, sounding younger than usual. "Your words are like a big verbal hug, Blaine."

Blaine laughed a little. "I love you, Kurt."

“Mmmm, love you too, Blaine."

The two ended the call, and Kurt connected his phone to its charger and set it on his bedside table; Kurt then turned his attention to his laptop visiting first a gossip blog then a fashion website. Attracted to a photo a fashion blog, he found himself on the website on which the photo originally appeared. It was devoted to men's fashion, and most of it was maybe a bit too reserved for his personal taste or image, but he'd found some outfits which he thought were perfect for Blaine on this site in the past. On this visit, though, he saw an image of a thin man, built not unlike Kurt himself wearing a very stylish-but-tasteful suit. The suit was sharp, tailored, but not clingy or tight. Kurt considered the image and nodded: an ensemble of this styling could be an interesting asset to his wardrobe, offering an alternate image when his usual overtly unique style might not be suitable (plus it might surprise some people). These were things he might need to take into consideration in the future: his high-fashion, neon-colored, skin-hugging approach might not be the best choice for an everyday style choice once he reached, say, twenty-five years of age; and it would be absolutely creepy on a thirty-five-year-old man. He had reservations, though. He wondered if the outfit was perhaps too definitive a masculine image for him; Kurt took pride in the fact that he could project an image that confounded the rigid-minded with ambiguity. Then again, he thought, he'd never even tried that approach the indisputably masculine without sliding into something farcical like the blue-collar, John Mellancamp-inspired image he'd tragically tried for a couple of days a few years ago. Either way, the idea merited consideration.

As the time was getting somewhat late, Kurt found himself, despite it being a Friday night, feeling somewhat tired. It was nearing eleven o'clock by this time by this time, and it had been a long day; and, although he needn't get an exceptionally-early start the next day, he definitely wanted to get a solid night's sleep to be at his best, especially considering the spotty sleep he'd experienced earlier in the week. As with every night, Kurt retired to the bright lights of his dressing-room which was connected to his main bedroom for his skin-care ritual. Five minutes later, give-or-take, he was ready for bed. He could honestly never understand why so many of his friends thought that a five-minute-a-day practice was so involved.

Kurt turned the cover-sheets down and slid between them, head sinking into an incredibly soft pillow. He reached toward the nightstand for his phone, picked it up, and checked it. Honestly during dinner, Kurt had forgotten that his conversation with David was so brief and, well, abrupt. He did expect a text message or a call from David sometime in the evening , assuming that David was busy earlier in the day, but there was nothing. This bothered Kurt a little; but, as before, he felt that if there was anything which needed to be addressed or discussed, David would have certainly contacted him. It was also comforting on some level that Kurt wouldn't be distracted by a conversation that probed into his head or David's head more than is altogether easily digested.

 

**Saturday March 4**

As usual, Kurt was up and out of bed early, certainly earlier than he needed to be on a Saturday. After showering, dressing, and styling his hair, he made his way down to the kitchen where Burt and Carole were making breakfast. Finn was already eating a plateful of pancakes with butter and syrup. Carole was having her pancakes with fresh fruit. Burt was suffering through oatmeal which, despite the infusion of fresh fruit, was still oatmeal. Kurt decided to have the oatmeal and fresh fruit also, feeling his dad could benefit from a companion to his heart-healthy breakfast ennui.

Kurt greeted everyone, pulling a bag of bagels out of the refrigerator. He'd bought them on the way home from school yesterday at the bakery counter of the local grocery store. "Dad, I'm going to have a bagel also with my oatmeal. I think it would be okay if you had one. I have light cream cheese also."

"Oooh," Burt's attention perked up from his oatmeal, "what kind do you have?"

"Whole Grain, cinnamon-raisin, blueberry, marble-rye..."

"Cinnamon-raisin!" he cut Kurt off in mid-list.

"Carole? Finn? Can I interest either of you in a bagel this morning?" Kurt asked as he had something for everyone, predicting that Burt would want the cinnamon-raisin bagel.

Carole declined. Finn accepted the offer, selecting the blueberry bagel. Kurt sliced the bagels and filled the toaster-oven. Kurt opened the container of cream cheese, set it on the table and placed the toasted bagels on plates, distributing them accordingly, before seating himself.

"How's school going, Kurt?" Burt asked as he slathered an almost ridiculously-thick slab of cream cheese onto half of his bagel.

"Geeze, Dad," Kurt exclaimed as he observed the amount of cream cheese on Burt's bagel.

"You said it's _light_ cream cheese," Burt said meekly in defense.

Kurt shook his head feeling he'd almost invited the action by informing Burt of the healthier status of the cream cheese, then spoke. "School's been fine. Almost boring since mid-terms. I think it's the academic post-exam calm period."

"Have you spoken to Dave Karofsky lately?" Burt inquired. "How's he getting along?"

"I visited him twice this week, and I've talked to him every day," Kurt answered. "It seems like he's getting along well. I think he's being kept busy with the school work."

"The school work is probably the best thing for him to keep his mind occupied," Burt added. "Are you okay visiting him like that?"

"Yes. David and I are okay. I don't know if we'll ever be best friends or anything, but we're friendly." Kurt sounded somewhat dismissive. "Has his dad called you or anything?"

"No," Burt answered, "He was glad that I offered to talk to him, but he hasn't taken me up on it: I guess that means everything is okay."

Kurt smiled and nodded.

As the four finished breakfast, Finn and Burt headed for the garage: Burt to see how things were running in his absence during the week, and Finn to put in some hours of labor. Carole attended to some minor housework, it being too early in the season for actual gardening, and Kurt departed for his Saturday with Blaine. Before doing so, Kurt sent a text message to David. It was a simple greeting, nothing more. Kurt's day with Blaine was typical: coffee and niceties, shopping and gossipping, dinner and reflection. A planned meeting at the Lima Mall with Mercedes was a welcome event: she added a feminine fire to the gossip that both boys always found enviable. Conspicuously absent from the entire day's chatter was David Karofsky. In any form. Indeed, his presence wasn't invoked since Burt asked about him over breakfast.

After ten o'clock, clocking over twelve hours of Blaine-time, Kurt returned home, greeted Burt and Carole as they reclined in front of the television, nearly dozing, and retired directly to his bedroom. As he closed his bedroom door behind him, he realized that he hadn't heard from David for the entire day. He checked his phone to see if he'd possibly missed a text message from David, but there was none.

Kurt didn't know whether to be irked or concerned. He sent another text message to David. Instead of a reply, his phone rang within two minutes.

"Hello, David?" Kurt asked, sounding somewhat concerned.

"Hello Kurt." David replied: same brief, dull-sounding tone as the day before.

"I texted you this morning, but I hadn't heard from you."

"Sorry about that." Staccato syllables.

Silence. Kurt was baffled.

"Are you okay, David?" Kurt sounded concerned, but was growing impatient.

"I'm okay," David answered, his voice softening slightly.

"David, last we talked about anything was two nights ago."

"Sometimes, I guess, I just don't have much to say."

"Okay, David, it's a little late, and I'm tired, and I'm maybe keeping you from something, so I should probably let you get to whatever it is you were doing when I texted you."

A thick silence.

"Later, Kurt." Dave's voice was lower, softer, the hard edge gone.

"Goodbye, David." Kurt very nearly snapped.

Kurt shook his head, confounded. Since Kurt's first visit post-hospital visit with David, he couldn't recall David not having much to say. Kurt put it out of his mind, but he might think twice about being so generous with his time in the future as far as David was concerned.

After completing his night-time skin-care ritual and crawling into bed, Kurt telephoned Blaine to make sure he arrived home safely.

"Hello, Blaine," Kurt nearly sang into the phone.

"Hi, Kurt," Blaine intoned just above a whisper.

"I trust you arrived home okay?"

"Yeah, I got home about twenty minutes ago. Almost no traffic."

"Thank you for another wonderful Saturday, Blaine."

"Thank you, Kurt. I love spending time with you, but, at this point, I feel the toll of the day's activities. I am absolutely ready for bed right now."

"I am also, Blaine," Kurt agreed. "After a day like that, what could we possibly have to say to each other which we haven't already? Have a good night, and I love you."

"Good night," Blaine responded. "I love you too."

With that, the boys ended their calls. Kurt connected his phone to its charger, leaving it on the bedside table, and sunk his head into pillow, pulling his covers up close to his chin. As he waited for the sleep to take him, Kurt smiled at the warmth of his feelings for Blaine. Kurt also considered his strange conversations with David. He lost any interest in dwelling on the negative aspects of David's behavior. This was far from the first time Kurt felt stung by David's actions, but he was beyond trying to understand it at this point. Kurt considered that, although David may be surprising, intelligent, articulate, and sensitive, there are still many reasons why he just didn't know David well enough to understand the way he was acting; furthermore, caring about it wasn't worth the effort. He'd dealt with physical abuse from David a year ago; Kurt would not stand for David to be abusing him on any level now.

 

**Sunday March 5**

David's alarm sounded at seven o'clock, waking him from a heavy night's sleep. As with the three previous mornings, David spent some minutes shaking the sleep out of his head. He never had experienced this sort of trouble in getting himself roused in the morning before he began taking the medication. He made a decision at that moment to stop taking the antidepressants.

Forcing himself onto his feet and out of bed, he dressed, and made his way downstairs. He remembered how good he felt earlier in the week, and he sought to recapture that feeling even if his head was still somewhat foggy. Paul wasn't yet awake, but David knew it wouldn't be long so he began making coffee. As with earlier in the week, he went downstairs and put about thirty minutes into working on his weight bench. By the time he was finished, he could hear the sounds of his father walking on the floor above, having risen from bed. David wasn't unhappy, but he affected a mood more cheerful than he actually felt. He wanted to recapture the positive attitude which served him well earlier in the week; with his heart pumping healthily and his adrenaline flowing, it was easier to motivate himself. He walked to the stairs and ascended to join his father.

"Hey, Dad."

"Good morning, David," his father greeted. "Up early today?"

"Yes-and-no." David said through a half-smile, affected-but-believable optimism. "A few days ago, I was up this early, no problem. The last few days, you've had to pound on my bedroom door."

Paul nodded. "Does this mean you're feeling better than you have for the last few days?"

"I'm going to try to feel better," David explained. "Dad, I'm going to stop taking those antidepressants. I know that I'm supposed to let them work for a couple of weeks before I notice an effect, but they're messing me up." Paul listened attentive as David continued. "I don't have a couple of weeks to wait, and, despite a couple of really obvious things which anyone would feel bad about, I don't really think I am depressed."

David was predicting that his dad would object, but, to the contrary, Paul nodded in agreement. "David, I was really happy with the way you were coming along; but then you started the medication and became very moody and, you said, unproductive. Doctors aren't always right. If you're stopping the medication, I trust you to make that call, David. I will be watching you, though. If I sense that things aren't right, I will get you to a doctor to see what other approaches they can take. It's clear that you weren't doing well on that particular medication."

David smiled, genuinely this time. At once, his dad was trusting his decision to stop the medication and watching him to make sure he was alright. David felt that his dad respected him enough to make such a decision but understood that he wanted the sense of security that Paul had given him lately. David couldn't possibly ask more of his dad at this point.

"Are you getting caught-up on your school work?" Paul asked as David sat at the kitchen table.

"Yeah, pretty late last night I got all of my actual assignments and reading done. I'll call Rupert and tell him that so he can get my next assignments ready. Now I need to concentrate on stuff like my AP History project. I was hoping to spend a good part of today doing that."

Paul smiled and nodded. "Have you spoken to any of your friends?"

"I talked to Sean a couple of days ago, and I've spoken to Kurt every day, I think." David's smile faded.

David changed the subject. "Do you have any plans for today?"

"I have some errands to run, stop at the grocery store, stuff like that. Nothing that will keep me away for more than an hour."

David nodded. "You're okay with me being home alone, then?"

"Yes," Paul answered. "Of course, you could come with me if you like."

"I'll think about it, but I'll probably just stay here because I have stuff to do. Let me know when you're going, though. I might go with you if I'm between things I need to get done."

The two finished breakfast after which David went to his bedroom and grabbed his laptop, setting it up in the gameroom and turning it on. A few months ago, he had tried to make some contacts so he could get some possible interviewees for his AP History project. He wanted to interview surviving World War II veterans, and he had contacted some people at VFW posts which were local to Lima. As he found it difficult to find people to interview, he had to expand the radius of his search to surrounding counties. The interview process, he decided, was going to take some travelling to accomplish. He was not against the idea. It actually might be a pleasant distraction from the confines of the house, and the winter weather was breaking. Maybe David and his dad could make some of the longer trips together: this was a pleasant idea to David.

David's head was still a little foggy, but he felt like he was coming out of it. The combination of the exercise, breakfast, and sport-drink was pushing the remainder of the medication out of his system, clearing his mind. He knew he had to call Kurt today. He was well-aware that he was just shy of rude when Kurt contacted him during the last two days, and he felt an apology was in order.

 _No point in delaying the inevitable and no time like the present_ , David thought. He sent a text message to Kurt.

 

* * *

  

Kurt was cleaning the stove and the cooking apparatus as Finn cleared the table of the dishes, glasses, and coffee cups, loading the dishwasher after breakfast, when Kurt heard the text alert on his phone. Kurt didn't bother to look at it yet: his hands were wearing latex cleaning gloves as he immersed a frying pan into sudsy water and scoured it. After a few more minutes of clearing the range, loading the remaining items into the dishwasher, and draining the water from the sink, Kurt removed the gloves and checked his phone.

David: _Hi Kurt. I'd like to talk to you today. Let me know when I can call, or you can just call me. I should be free all day._ 9:16 AM

Kurt shook his head and rolled his eyes. This must be that roller-coaster thing Finn was talking about. Kurt's phone buzzed another alert.

David: _Thank you, Kurt._ 9:17 AM

Kurt scowled. _Why did he have to be so polite?_ , Kurt thought. Kurt was a pushover for politeness. He was about to call David when another text alert sounded.

Blaine: _Good morning, Kurt! Just finished breakfast here. Now are you today?_ 9:19 AM

Kurt instead dialed Blaine's number.

"Hi, Kurt. How are you today?"

Kurt's smile was audible in his speech. "Good morning, Blaine! Everything is good here. Finn and I just finished cleaning up the table after breakfast."

"Oh, tell Finn I said, 'hi'."

Kurt turned to his step-brother, "Hey, Finn, Blaine said, 'hi'."

"Hi, Blaine," Finn called over his shoulder toward Kurt, both Kurt and Blaine laughing as the phone picked up the sound easily. Finn laughed also after a couple of seconds. "What? No point in you relaying that to him if he could hear me just fine from where I am," Finn defended his action, still laughing.

"What's on your agenda for today, Blaine?"

"I'm going to be helping my dad clean out the basement and garage. Early spring-cleaning, I guess. I'll be starting that soon, and that's why I wanted to touch base with you early. Of course, you could call me any time, but my dad probably won't want me on the phone for a long period of time. What do you have going on today?"

Kurt answered. "I have a couple of reading assignments, nothing major. I should start work on a paper for English class, but I really have at least a week before anything is due, so we'll see how that works out." Kurt heard a loud voice coming from Blaine's side of the phone.

"That's my dad calling me. I gotta go, Kurt. Talk to you later."

"Have a good day, Blaine. I love you."

"Ditto, Kurt. Bye."

Both boys ended their calls and Kurt put his phone down to attend to wiping down the kitchen table.

Almost an hour had passed before Kurt remembered that he was about to call David when he was distracted by Blaine's text message. He instead sent a message back to David.

 

* * *

  

David's phone rang a text alert.

Kurt: _Hi, David. Is it okay to call now?_ 10:32 AM

David dialed Kurt immediately.

"Hello?" Kurt sounded businesslike, wary, and slightly defensive.

"Hi, Kurt," David answered at an audible level, but definitely softly-spoken. A few seconds passed before he continued. "Sorry if I was kinda short or rude with you in the past couple of days."

Kurt exhaled loudly. "It's okay, David. You're busy, and you're dealing with a lot of things." This sounded more understanding than his initial 'hello' sounded.

David paused before he spoke again. "No, Kurt, there's really no excuse for me being that way. I don't want to be that way, especially with you, that's all."

"Was there any reason why you were, David?"

"I don't know. I was pushing my way through the school work, and maybe the meds were making that more difficult than it had to be. I stopped the meds, by the way."

Kurt listened then spoke, sounding understanding. "Do you think that will help?"

"I'm already feeling more like myself. My head's clearer. My dad says he trusts my decision. He also said that I became moody when I started taking them."

Kurt agreed. "'Moody!' Yes, that's the term for it! I hope you're feeling better, David."

David laughed, sounding relieved. Kurt's voice had become less pointed, more friendly. David spoke. "Like I said, I already am."

"So," Kurt changed the subject, "how is your school work coming along?"

"I'm all up-to-date right now as of the end of last week. I already called Rupert and left him a message about that, so he'll be getting the current lessons and assignments from my teachers tomorrow. Then he'll be here for more time each day, probably close to the length of a school day."

"David, that's impressive. You've caught-up two weeks of school work and assignments in about three days."

"Well, no, it was more like five days; and it was a totally concentrated effort with almost no distractions."

"David, you accomplished an amazing amount of work in few days while dealing with the negative side-effects of antidepressants. That is pretty amazing."

David laughed and smiled widely. "Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt continued. "Not only that, I know that you're a smart guy, David. Every time we get into a real conversation, you always have some interesting observation or opinion to relate. There was something you said the other day, that your mind needs to be kept busy. I think maybe you're right about that."

"Yeah, sometimes I'm feel best when my mind is working, and it's good to have something constructive to think about. The next big thing is research and gathering interviews for my History project. My teacher stopped by on Friday and left a handheld digital audio recorder here. That's what I'll be conducting my interviews with. He'll set me up with the computer lab at the community college so I can edit my interviews. Mr. Williams teaches summer courses at Allen County Community College, so he's going to walk me through using the audio software."

"Sounds like an interesting project. What kind of topic are you doing?"

"I want to interview surviving World War II veterans. I came up with the idea months ago and never went anywhere with it. Luckily, I have no distractions and all the time in the world to do this right now."

"It sounds interesting, David," Kurt offered. "Unfortunately, I have no such intriguing academic projects in my future."

"Yeah, but you have your music. That's gotta be a really satisfying creative outlet for you, right?"

"Yes. We'll be preparing for the National competition soon; and dealing with fifteen other egos and conflicting personalities isn't always the most pleasant working environment, but the tension helps the final product sometimes. We'd probably be boring if everyone got along all of the time."

David smiled at that, understanding completely.

"I should probably let you go, David," Kurt said. "I have work to do, and it sounds like you have quite a bit to dive into yourself."

"Yeah, thanks for hearing me out, and thanks for being so cool about it, Kurt," David spoke, sounding truly relieved.

David could hear Kurt audibly snicker at that, not mocking but somehow understanding. "David, I think I'm getting to a point where I understand the ways you act sometimes," Kurt said, his feelings about David fully-restored to that of a few days ago. "Goodbye, David. Feel free to contact me again if you should like."

"Same, Kurt. Thanks and Goodbye."

Both boys ended the call. David set about searching some VFW locator websites. He was amassing individual email addresses when his dad came into the gameroom.

"I'm about to leave for a while," Paul announced. "Would you like to come along with me?"

"Um, I hope you don't mind, but I was just going to see what I can get done on my project here."

"Oh, no problem," Paul said. "I'll be back within the hour. Anything you want in particular for dinner?"

"Honestly, anything would be fine with me."

David worked for most of the afternoon gathering email addresses where he might potentially find people to be interviewed for his project. He wasn't coming up with much in the way of concrete material. This was clearly going to take more time than he'd hoped. Paul, as promised, had returned within the hour. David and he decided that they'd order pizza for their dinner. David didn't mind that Sunday dinner was something so commonplace; Paul didn't feel he had much choice. Paul didn't consider himself much of a cook outside of the outdoor grill, and it was too early in the season for that.

After they ate, David dove back into the computer, still searching for more sources for interviews. Although David indeed felt like his mind was much clearer than the previous day, he felt that he'd exhausted the all of the options which he considered obvious. David thought that perhaps his dad might have some ideas, so he left the gameroom. As the sun was setting, he saw the light on in his parents' bedroom. David arrived and stood in the doorway, about to speak, when he saw that his father was packing some of his mother's clothes and other belongings into an open suitcase. A second suitcase, this one closed and presumably already filled, was on the floor as if ready to transport. David stood silent for a few seconds. _She's not coming back_ , he told himself but did not physically voice. When he noticed David's presence in the doorway, Paul looked up at him with a sorrowful expression. David turned and walked slowly back toward the gameroom, seating himself on the couch in front of the open laptop, silent, unmoving.

A minute later, his father came into the gameroom and sat beside him. David thought of the day last week when he watched his father pull out of the driveway and turn to look into the back seat of the car: he must have been checking to make sure he remembered to take some bags which he'd packed for David's mother. Paul and David sat silent, side-by-side for some minutes. Finally David spoke.

"Dad, what's wrong with mom? I mean, I know that she knows other gay men. I've heard her talk about them like it doesn't bother her. Why me?" David sounded emotional, but not shaken; somehow slightly clinical.

Paul shook his head and breathed audibly before he answered. "I think it's her family and her friends. Her brother and her father are not the most tolerant people. I think the idea of facing them with the idea of your orientation frightens her. And, of course, her friends are always bragging about their kids getting married and having kids. Otherwise, your mother is pretty level-headed."

"You miss mom." It wasn't a question.

Once again, Paul shook his head in a gesture of futility. "I love your mother. I know she wants to love you. She's trying to come to terms with this."

"But at the same time," David observed, "she's asking for more of her things, like her not being here is becoming more permanent."

Paul closed his eyes and huffed, tears coming on. "I can't say what will happen, David."

David wasn't crying. "I miss Mom. I hate that she left because of me. I hate that there's this void in your life because you miss her so much. I hate feeling like I caused this."

Paul spoke quietly. "It wasn't a choice for you, and me sticking by you was no choice for me. It was what I had to do. No choice. You're just a kid. _My_ kid. I couldn't turn my back on you."

"You're incredible, Dad. Feels like you're all I really have right now."

Paul broke into full-on tears. David reached over and drew Paul close to him.

As Paul's tears subsided, David spoke. "Do you think that, when I go away to college, Mom might come back?"

Paul shook his head. "I don't know. She'd need to change her mind, though. If she can't accept you, she can't accept me. You and me, David, we're a package-deal."

David was on the verge of crying but didn't quite get there. A few moments of quiet passed as Paul composed himself. David drew his arm back to his side.

"Dad," David broke the silence. "When I was in the hospital, Kurt came to see me. He did this thing where he asked me to talk about something I was looking forward to in the future. I'd like to hear how you'd respond to being asked that."

Paul turned and looked into David's face, smiling slightly though his eyes were still wet. His look was a little unsure, and he remained silent.

"I'll go first, Dad. This is all pretty immediate stuff." David faced forward as he spoke, Paul watched David's face intently. "I'm looking forward to getting all the events of the past few weeks behind me. I'm looking forward to getting all of this school stuff done and out-of-the-way. After that, I'm looking forward to having an amazing summer with my dad before I go off to college somewhere yet-to-be-decided."

Paul smiled widely and laughed, not because David's words struck him as humorous; but rather because David's words made him happy despite his tears.

"Your turn, Dad." David smiled as he spoke.

Paul's voice was rough-sounding from sobbing as he spoke. "I'm looking forward to you finishing school also, and then graduating college." Paul paused, perhaps trying to articulate the next sentence in his head before speaking. "I'm looking forward to you finding a partner and falling in love." David was astounded by this revelation, speechless as his father continued. "Someday...someday, David, I hope I can watch you get married to the person you want to share your life with." David breathed deeply, jaw slack, listening to his father's words. "I want to be there when you get married, David. I fell in love with your mother, and I know how incredible that feels, and I want you to know that feeling."

David could not hold back tears any longer. He reached over and pulled his father in close to him again, tighter this time. "I want that too, Dad, so badly." David paused before going on; his words were scratchy and wet-sounding but distinct. "I can't know if you really get all of this. I know it has to be a lot for you to deal with, but thank you so much for being so understanding. I love you, Dad."

Paul was reduced to a point where he could not speak. David held Paul for a few minutes while father and son composed themselves. David eventually released his hold on Paul. Paul stood, returning upstairs, feeling somewhat drained by the last few minutes. David stared at the screen of his laptop as he reclined on the couch, emotionally exhausted. Then an idea came to him. He reached for his phone and composed a text message.

David: _Kurt, you around?_ 7:22 PM

The phone rang in David's hands within a minute's time.

"Hello, Kurt." David's voice was low-pitched and somewhat hoarse.

"David? Are you alright? Have you been crying?"

"Yeah, but everything's okay, Kurt. I want to talk to you tomorrow after I get some stuff mapped out, okay?" David was speaking quickly.

"Um, sure," Kurt sounded very accommodating. "You mean on the phone or in-person or what?"

"Doesn't matter. Either will work. Just let me know what times will be good for you, okay?"

"Sure, David." Kurt laughed a little, intrigued by the excitement in David's voice.

"Hey, if you want to get Blaine in on this also, that'd be good. This is for my History project. I'm scrapping my first idea. I have a better one now. One that's more personally involving to me."

"Okay, David. I'll ask Blaine. I have a feeling he'd be okay with it. He mentioned maybe wanting to hang out with you sometime anyway."

David sniffed and smiled as the idea came together that much more in his mind. "Okay, then, we'll talk tomorrow. I have some further things to do right now, though. Have a good night, Kurt; and thank you."

"Goodbye, David. Have a good night yourself."

David ended the call and leaned into the screen of his laptop. He searched his email account and found a handful of addresses which he hadn't used in a few months.

 

* * *

  

Kurt had just ended his nightly phone call with Blaine. It wasn't even half-past-nine yet, but Kurt wanted to get a full night's sleep. He was intrigued by David's conversation earlier in the evening; Blaine's interest seemed piqued also. Kurt heard his text-message-alert sound on his phone. He reached over to check it.

David: _Talk tomorrow, right?_ 9:18 PM

Kurt laughed. There was something incredibly cute about David's enthusiasm.

Kurt: _Yes, David. I'll text you tomorrow morning, and we'll arrange what we're doing then._ 9:20 PM

David: _I'm stoked, Kurt. I think this is going to be fantastic. Thank you so much._ 9:21 PM

Kurt: _I don't think I've done anything yet worthy of thanks, David._ 9:23 PM

Kurt was smirking at the tone of David's messages.

David: _You've done more than you know and more than you'd ever take credit for, but good night for now. Talk tomorrow._ 9:25 PM

 

Kurt: _Good night, David._ 9:26 PM


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 6,660

**Chapter 17**

 

**David at Thurston, Part 9**

"So, we've been doing this stopping-by-Sean's-locker-thing at the end of every day for over a week now," Dave reminded Johnno in the locker room as they changed into their T-shirts and shorts, dressing for the daily visit to the weight room. "Are you any closer to actually asking Gretchen out?"

"Dude, just give me some more time," Johnno answered. "I'm really not sure how to approach that."

"No pressure," Dave reassured. "You're all my friends. It causes me no pain to hang out with you. I just think that, if you want to ask her out, she's not likely to turn you down. She likes you, Johnno."

Randy chimed in. "Listen to what Karofsky says, Johnno. Karofsky's been friends with Gretchen before any of us had the guts to actually strike up a conversation with her."

"You actually _know_ she likes me?" Johnno questioned, skeptically. "She's _told_ you as much?"

"Ummm," Dave began an answer. "I've heard her say really cool things about you. I haven't heard her say anything so blunt as she likes you in so many words."

Johnno puzzled a bit. "I wouldn't even be sure what kinda date to ask her out on."

"Maybe I can help with that," Dave offered. "She's into art. Her parents love old movies. She likes the fact that you like to read. Maybe you could take her to a play or a foreign film or an art opening or something, Johnno."

"Yeah," Johnno replied, "I can check the weekend events in the newspaper and see what's going on from that angle; sounds like I might be able to get into some of that stuff also."

"No offense," Randy interjected. "Karofsky, Johnno, you guys are my bros, and I love the both of you to death; but any of those date options sounds like a nightmare or boredom to me."

Johnno smirked, reached out his arm, and smacked across the top of Randy's head playfully but hard enough to sting a little.

"Wait a minute, Randy," Dave recalled, "aren't you the guy who's taking his girlfriend to a ballet for Halloween?"

"Okay, Karofksy, you got me, but it's not like a first date or anything," Randy spun damage control, "Terri and I've been going out since the beginning of summer."

Johnno smirked and shook his head, letting the discussion drop as Randy walked to the weight machine.

"Hey, Karofsky," Johnno said in a hushed voice once Randy was out of earshot, "you think you'd be up for you, me, and Gretchen going to that Halloween party that Carl is having?"

Dave reacted to the question appearing a bit pained. "Aw, man, if you really want to go, I will. I can't guarantee that Gretchen will want to go, and if it's the case that she doesn't want to go, I'm out because, one, I'd only be going so you could have a chance to hang out with her, two, I find Carl and some of the rest of those guys repulsive, and, three, I can think of better ways to spend a Saturday night."

Johnno's face betrayed a disappointed smile, "I'm sorry, Karofsky. Kinda uncool for me to expect you to do that kinda favor for me. I wouldn't want to go if Gretchen wasn't going either." Johnno's disappointment was with himself and not Dave.

"Johnno, man, I'd do it for you, but, really," Dave paused. "We'll do it this way: I'm not going to mention it to Gretchen, but if she brings it up, I'll mention that you said something about it. That's about as much as I can do right now."

Johnno nodded. "Thanks, Karofsky."

"You know, Johnno," Dave continued, "you _could_ sit with us at lunch; I mean, it might be a good way to converse with her on a regular basis."

Jonno shook his head. "I would look like an idiot in front of all of those math and science nerds."

Dave rolled his eyes to the ceiling and smiled a frustrated smile. "You are a smart guy. Smart in a different way, and Gretchen would like that. You should hear her rip those guys sometimes."

"Hey, you guys liftin' today or what?" Randy shouted from the adjoining room.

Johnno and Dave turned and moved toward the weight room.

Johnno shook his head. "I probably just don't want her to rip me like that."

Early the next day, Dave was met at his locker by Nick and Carl. As was usual, Dave faced straight into his locker, uninterested in giving them the courtesy of addressing them Carl spoke; as usual, Nick remained silent.

"You comin' to my Halloween party, Karofsky?" Carl asked.

"I'm not sure," Dave answered. "Not ruling it out, but I don't have a costume. I don't have plans one way or the other."

"Well," Carl suggested, "why don't you bring Johnno and Gretchen and you three can hang out for a while before you go off somewhere for you and Johnno to double-team her?"

With that, Dave stood back from his locker, turned to Carl and Nick, an expression of genuine disgust on his face. "What is wrong with you guys? Before you were crude, but that is just plain wrong. Do not say that kinda shit to me, Carl, I will go totally berserk on your ass." Dave slammed his locker shut, not taking his eyes off of Carl's. Both Nick and Carl wore confused expressions, but both were on the verge of snickering, like they didn't understand why such comments bothered Dave. Eventually, Nick and Carl turned and went on their way, shaking their heads.

"What's wrong, Dave?" Gretchen's voice took him by surprise from behind. "You look pissed-off."

"I don't like those guys making depraved comments about my friends."

"What guys and which friends?" Gretchen asked.

"Nick and Carl and it's not important which friends." Dave turned to Gretchen and looked at her. The anger in his face subsided to a faint smile.

"Speaking of Carl, I heard he's having a Halloween party," Gretchen mentioned. "What say we go?"

Dave exhaled loudly looking unfocused in the general direction of Gretchen's face: he supposed the suggestion was inevitable. "Okay, but I need a costume, and I want to take Johnno and with us. If I need to deal with their apishness, I want my friends around."

"What about Sean and that bunch?" Gretchen suggested. "You could ask some of them."

"Uh, y'know, I love those guys, but they'd just be ill-fit with the jock crowd," Dave answered. " _I'm_ feeling really ill-fit with the jock crowd lately."

"Well, it's something to do," Gretchen shrugged. "Get me some sizes and I'll hit the thrift shops tonight. I'll get some awesome costumes for you. If Johnno needs a costume, tell him to get me his sizes too. Oh, and if you're leaving me in charge of costumes, you need to wear what I come up with, no whining."

"Just...kill me now," Dave muttered beneath his breath.

"What was that?" Gretchen sounded mock-annoyed.

Dave looked at her, gave a flustered smile and said, "Ignore me."

 

* * *

 

The week passed quickly. It was late Saturday afternoon and just beginning to darken outside when Dave and Johnno convened at Gretchen's house. True to her word, Gretchen had assembled killer costumes for them. She showed the boys to the basement where the costumes were laid out for each of them; her head was wrapped in a towel, she was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and she excused herself to the upstairs to change into her costume.

Johnno's costume was a classic-style Sherlock Holmes outfit with a deerstalker cap, tweed suit, grey parka, curved pipe, and huge magnifying glass: simple and effective (given Johnno's interests, Gretchen had wanted to construct a literary figure for his costume; and William Shakespeare, her first choice, had proved far too elaborate given the lack of time and budget). Dave's costume was an effective pirate ensemble consisting of a plain black coat which Gretchen had altered and embellished generously with gold braid and enormous collars and cuffs, a billowy cream-colored shirt embellished at the neckline with a generous drape of fabric, and a black three-cornered hat ornamented with gold-braid piping. When dressed, the two young men appeared quite impressive, especially for costumes thrown together in a few day's time with a few hour's labor.

Dave excused himself from the basement to go upstairs and use the bathroom. On the way back to the stairs he saw Gretchen's parents watching the television in the family room. Though he never actually saw the old film they were watching, he recognized enough of the imagery to name it.

"Hey," Dave leaned his head in from the hallway, "How are you tonight?"

Gretchen's parents turned and greeted him, smiling. "Good evening, Dave," the father said.

"Nice costume," the mom added.

Dave smiled. "Compliment Gretchen for that. How she put this stuff together in a few days is beyond me."

"Her creative energy knows no bounds," the mother said.

"Takes after her mother," the father confirmed. Mom giggled and elbowed him gently.

Dave nodded toward the television. " _Bride of Frankenstein_?"

"Yes, you've seen it?" the father asked.

"Uh, no, but I know a little about the director, James Whale," Dave replied.

"He made a number of respected movies, but _The Bride of Frankenstein_ is considered to be his masterpiece," the father informed.

Mom added, "Perfect movie for this time of year."

Dave smiled. "I'm going to go back to the basement to wait for Gretchen. Maybe talk to you later."

Dave descended the stairs back to the basement. Gretchen arrived about a minute later. To say that the two boys would have not recognized her was an understatement.

"What's up with your hair?" Dave asked, an expression of total bewilderment on his face.

"Cut it. It's my natural color now. I'll be going back to black tomorrow, though. What do you guys think?"

She was dressed as a stylish young man. Her hair had been cut into a wispy pageboy-style, parted to one side and thrown loosely back up off of her forehead; and, in its natural state, was a warm chestnut-brown color. She was wearing no makeup at all; and her ultra-fair complexion and lighter-than-usual hair color complimented her features, making them appear more delicate and understated than usual, but no less beautiful. She was wearing a trendy young-man's suit in a warm, dark gray color with pencil-legged pants, a stylishly-fitted jacket, and a rust-colored banded-collar silky-looking shirt beneath. Somehow, she managed to make all of her female curves disappear. The transformation was complete; only Gretchen's diminutive height rendered the whole image somewhat bizarre, as if a fully-proportionate teenage boy had been scaled down to two-thirds his actual size.

"Well?" Gretchen raised an eyebrow while posing the question.

Johnno was the first to speak. "Um, I don't think I'd have even recognized you."

Dave almost couldn't look. Gretchen's costume had totally switched something in his head to overload. "It's outrageous in that it's _not_ outrageous, Kuh..., fuck, wait, you're not even Gretchen right now." Dave somehow summoned a half-smile even as his eyebrows arched, trying to process the image.

"Oh, I'm Gretchen, alright." She reached over and switched on the boom-box as if to prove the point. A thumping beat, an eerie guitar sound, and a throaty voice emerged.

  _...The bats have left the bell tower, the victims have been bled  
_ _Red velvet lines the black box, Bela Lugosi's dead  
_ _Undead, undead, undead..._

"Time for some good Halloween music," Gretchen explained, "because we won't hear any good music for the remainder of the night."

Johnno laughed. Dave was still too stunned. He did manage to say, "My pirate costume looks awesome, Gretchen, thanks."

"Thank you," she smiled back at him. "I'm gonna go check on my parents before we leave, okay? Be back in a few minutes."

Gretchen disappeared up the stairs. The throbbing, noisy, spooky song played on.

Johnno spoke first. "Call me weird or something, but the way she's dressed is kinda hot."

Dave just shook his head, appearing somewhat pained. "Yeah. And don't go any further with that thought, please."

It probably wasn't the best idea where Johnno's shyness was concerned, but Dave drove them all to the party in his truck: Johnno in the passenger seat, Gretchen on Johnno's lap. As they exited the truck on arrival at Carl's house, they could hear the sounds of music and revelry although the lights appeared dim inside.

"Just like I predicted," Gretchen intoned, "crappy music."

Johnno grinned but said nothing. Dave was too weirded-out to speak. This was far from ideal. Gretchen and Johnno really didn't work together so well without Dave actively interfacing with them. Once inside the house, Dave wanted to go off in his own direction and be by himself, but he wouldn't abandon Johnno and Gretchen: if Johnno became occupied talking to one of the guys, Gretchen would be largely isolated, not really knowing any of the people; and just Dave's presence made Gretchen feel more at-ease, even if Dave was being very quiet.

Sure enough, Johnno became occupied talking with another player from the team who was dressed as a football player. Gretchen viewed this from across the room. "Real original these guys are with their costumes." When she flashed Dave her sarcastic scowl, she resembled herself again. This helped lessen Dave's tension.

"Uh, yeah, they're not the most creative bunch," Dave replied, still sounding somewhat timid. "You wanna walk over with me and see what they have to drink? I could use a beer because I'm all fuckin' nerves right now."

"Sure, Dave," Gretchen smiled a smile that really didn't look like Gretchen. Still, Dave was mellowing somewhat, and that could only be a good thing.

The two made their way over to the drink table. There was a keg set up in a portable laundry rinse-tub filled with ice. Dave grabbed a plastic cup and pumped the keg, dispensing beer into the cup. Gretchen took a cup also and filled it halfway with red wine. The two then headed back to the other side of the room and seated themselves on the couch. Gretchen got up at various times to try to circulate with the other people at the party, eventually making her way back to the couch with a second glass of wine.

"Even in my quiet state, I'm more fun than the rest of the people here?" Dave asked.

"Dave, you're awesome whether you're quiet or talkative. You communicate astute observations with your facial expressions." As Gretchen said this, Dave felt his expression fall blank, ironically. Gretchen continued. "All of the guys here, you and possibly Johnno excepted, are, like you once said about the locker-rooms, 'Darwin-in-reverse'. All the girls here are from a different planet from me." At least that sounded like Gretchen, despite that the person said it looked nothing like her. "Something wrong, Dave? Sometimes you're quiet, but you're way quieter than usual right now."

Dave looked down, away from Gretchen's face, smiled faintly, and shook his head. "I'm finding you beautiful and kinda creepy right now, Gretchen. I know it's you, but it's creeping me out a little."

Gretchen smiled. This was good because she became more Gretchen-like when she did. "Creepy because I'm beautiful as a guy? Or creepy because you are finding someone you'd think is a guy as beautiful?"

"Yes. And I know I'd never admit that to anyone else, so consider yourself privileged."

Gretchen laughed; Dave remained stoic. Gretchen explained. "Well, that's artistic terrorism: involving the audience directly and wringing a reaction out of them." Gretchen looked up and around the room. "I'm going to go use the powder-room," Gretchen announced.

"I'll be here," Dave answered.

As Dave sat on the couch, he observed that Carl had entered the room and struck a conversation with Johnno. There were a couple of other guys and several girls standing around the group. Dave couldn't hear the conversation, but he could see Johnno become visibly irritated at Carl, some of the guys laughing, and some of the girls wearing expressions of distaste and disgust. When Johnno looked as if he was going to start shoving Carl, Dave stood up and walked over to the gathering.

"Hey," Dave intervened, "What's going on?"

Carl smiled a goofy, drunken smile. "I was just saying that you guys must be planning some kinky shit tonight for after the party, what with that Gretchen chick dressed like a thirteen-year-old dude."

With that, Johnno sent his fist for Carl, landing it into Carl's jaw, knocking Carl into a bookcase, sending tomes, papers, and shelves flying. "I told him not to say it again." Johnno growled low-but-audibly as some of the girls screamed.

"Yeah, and I told him not to say shit like that earlier this week at school," Dave said at a similar hushed volume, feeling glad that Carl got slammed and gladder yet that it wasn't Dave himself who decked Carl; but a problem persisted nonetheless.

Just then, Dave spied Gretchen walking back into the room. The guys from the group had gone to the adjoining room where a number of other team-mates were hanging out. There were a few stunned girls left staring at the collapsed bookcase as two of them helped a stunned Carl to his feet. Dave grabbed Johnno by the shoulder and put his hand on Gretchen's back, pushing them both to the front door.

Once outside, Dave spoke to them. "We're outta here. Monday morning, this will have blown-over, and there were enough people that heard what Carl said who will say that your action was completely justified, Johnno; but if we don't leave right now, you'll be getting your ass kicked. Typical drunk-jock-logic."

"What happened?" Gretchen asked, just shy of panic as the three climbed into Dave's truck.

Johnno remained silent. Dave, eyes fixed ahead as he pulled out onto the road, spoke to Gretchen's question. "Dumb-ass drunk jock garbage, and the exact reason why I wasn't exactly stoked on coming tonight. Carl said something offensive and totally out-of-line, and Johnno justifiably slammed his face." The three sat silent in the truck. Maybe ten seconds passed before they all started laughing loudly. Gretchen clapped, Dave reached over and patted Johnno's shoulder, and Johnno just silently laughed to himself, holding Gretchen just a little tighter than before.

"So, what did Carl say?" Gretchen asked. "I missed it."

"I'm not gonna say, Gretchen," Dave answered, still chuckling. "You'll smack me just for repeating it just like you do every time I say the p-word." Dave was back to normal: the adrenaline flushed the weirdness of the evening right out of his system.

As it was still very early, and, since it seemed a shame to waste such excellent costumes, the three found themselves at the local fast-food burger restaurant. It had become an almost mandatory stop for Dave and Gretchen when they were out.

"Maybe we should go rent a horror movie or something," Johnno suggested between bites of his bacon-double-cheeseburger, as vocal as he'd been all night.

"Oh, man, modern horror movies totally bite," Gretchen almost yelled as she dragged on the straw of her strawberry milkshake.

"Yeah, I know," Johnno said, agreeably. Sounding _too_ agreeable, _too_ eager to agree. Downright awkward. Strike one.

"Hey, Gretchen," Dave began between enormous bites of his bacon-double-cheeseburger. "Speaking of movies, your parents were watching _Bride of Frankenstein_ tonight. Your dad said it's a masterpiece. I never saw it."

"Oh, yeah; I've seen tons of old movies because my parents love them, and, yeah, _Bride of Frankenstein_ is definitely awesome," Gretchen contributed.

Johnno seized an opportunity. "Y'know, the book _Frankenstein_ is great, and it's totally unlike all of the movies they've made over the years."

This grabbed Gretchen's attention. Dave grinned to himself. Johnno was a literature-guy, and Gretchen would probably dig whatever Johnno was about to lay on them. Base hit.

Johnno explained. "In all of the movies I've seen, the creature is this lumbering, oafish monster that grunts and growls. In the book, he's this literate, articulate beast on an existential trip; and existentialism wasn't even a thing until another century after the book was written."

"You mean, it's not really a horror story, and the monster doesn't terrorize the countryside like he does in the movie versions?" Gretchen asked, seeming suddenly engrossed.

"Oh, yeah, there's a good amount of horror and dark stuff in the story, but it's also debatably the first science-fiction novel," Johnno continued. "It's got these heavy philosophical and religious concerns, mostly because the creature is, like I said, this intelligent, eloquent, thinking being trapped in a body which people find hideous. The more he's confronted by the coldness of humanity, the more bitter and vengeful he becomes."

Something here was striking Dave; he looked away from Johnno, still listening.

"It's like, no matter how benign the creature was or good he tried to be, people still feared the sight of him. Ultimately, he confronts the his creator who abandoned him after giving him life. It's definitely pretty intense stuff. And the language is beautiful also; and it was almost unheard of at the time for a female author to have written such a novel. It's this amazing work of literature for so many reasons."

Dave looked over at Gretchen. That didn't help. On one side of Dave was a friend talking about an intelligent, philosophical mind trapped in a body that filled people with terror; on the other side was his female friend dressed as a fair-faced, waifish, delicately-featured, well-dressed young man. The irony nearly made Dave laugh aloud: he'd physically left McKinley in his past, but Halloween conjured year-old spirits and haunted him. People didn't fear him at Thurston; and there was no longer a fair young man taunting him by constantly calling into question the honesty of Dave's existential being. These facts were small consolations.

Fortunately, Dave was sufficiently hungry that his second burger distracted him enough to briefly forget about the discussion and images at hand. Dave resigned himself to being glad that Johnno had at least wrung some mileage out of the discussion; if Dave had to suffer through this symbolic malaise, at least he knew Johnno could benefit from the outcome in his quest to interest Gretchen.

Gretchen excused herself to the lavatory, leaving Johnno and Dave by themselves.

"Hey, Karofsky," Johnno spoke. "This was a kind-of ridiculous night, but thanks, man, for enduring all of this."

Dave smiled, and, with Johnno's comment, probably felt the best he had since before Gretchen revealed herself in costume. "It's no problem, Johnno. I had nothing better to do, and it was entertaining, I guess. And I got to witness you impress Gretchen." Dave's smile widened. "And deck Carl, which was great because he completely had it coming."

Gretchen returned from the ladies room, and the three of them exited the building and climbed into Dave's truck for the short drive back to Gretchen's house. Dave dropped Gretchen and Johnno off. Johnno had left his car there, and Dave thought this might be a perfect opportunity to make himself scarce so Johnno and Gretchen could get better-acquainted without his help.

Dave said goodbye to Gretchen and Johnno for the evening and drove his truck back onto the road. Checking the time, he realized that it was just barely past eight o'clock. The evening was very young. Dave decided to make a minor detour to the junction with Route 81 and take the road west. He arrived at Scandals in less than twenty minutes.

It struck him that he might look odd walking into the place wearing a pirate costume. He debated losing the jacket and shirt in exchange for the regular clothes in the gym-bag he'd brought with him, having changed out of them at Gretchen's house; but the possibility of being seen in his truck in a state of partial undress in the parking lot of Lima's only gay bar might be difficult to explain. He weighed taking his chances going into the bar wearing a pirate outfit (also wondering if there was any significance to a pirate costume in some gay-culture code of which he wasn't yet aware) when he saw a couple of groups of people entering the bar in costumes. Perhaps the bar had a Halloween party event tonight, Dave speculated.

He entered the bar to see about half of the patrons in some kind of costume; the other half were dressed as they might be on a regular night. The bar was crowded but not uncomfortable; but it was a Saturday night, and, he'd imagine, it could get packed quickly. He showed the doorman his ID; the man recognized him from two weeks before and commented with some level of good-natured sarcasm, "Nice costume, Captain Morgan." Dave smirked politely at the doorman, tipped the front of his hat forward to help obscure his face somewhat, and affected a slight strut to his gait as he walked into the bar area.

As before, the far end of the bar had several empty seats, and he sat on the end seat.

"Beer special?" the bartender spoke at Dave gruffly.

"Huh?" Dave jumped slightly at the sound.

"Do you want the beer special?" the bartender clarified. "Like you had last time?"

"Oh, yeah," Dave answered understanding. "Please, thank you." Dave pulled out his wallet and placed a ten-dollar-bill onto the bar; and the bartender, who sounded gruff but seemed friendly enough, set an opened bottle before Dave.

Dave took the bottle into his hand, turned around on his barstool, and scanned the people around him, somewhat meekly. He sat there for several minutes just looking around. Some people nodded as they walked past; Dave politely nodded in return. As far as costumes were concerned, he saw a man in a nice-looking version of a Phantom of the Opera costume, a couple of younger men appearing to be dressed as Twilight-style vampires, an enormous man dressed in a clingy, pink gown with an excessive amount of makeup around his eyes and a shaggy platinum-blonde wig on his head, and a man in frilly nineteenth-century clothes with long blonde hair and professional-quality fangs. It was then when he noticed a group of men at the other side of the bar. None of them were costumed, but they were dressed not unlike the average-looking-guys who were at the bar on Leather Friday two weeks ago. It appeared that a couple of the men in this group had been staring in Dave's direction. This made Dave a little self-conscious. He turned around again to face the bar when he felt a man brush past his shoulder as he took the seat next to Dave's.

"Hey, Dave," the man said to him.

Dave smiled upon recognizing the face. "Hi, Rod. Glad to see you."

Rod patted Dave on the shoulder as he settled onto his seat. "Cool costume, Dave."

"Thanks. I just came from a Halloween party. A friend of mine made the costume for me." Dave looked at Rod. "No costume for you tonight?"

"Nah, just the friendly bear I always am." Rod responded, grinning slightly.

Dave laughed though, truthfully, he didn't quite understand the comment. "How have you been, Rod?"

"I've been well; I cannot complain, Dave. How about you?"

"Doing okay. Busy with school and such. I was at a party earlier tonight and left early to avoid getting into a fight."

Rod laughed briefly and shook his head. "Smart to keep out of trouble."

Dave smiled and nodded at that.

"Hey, I'm gonna go say hello to my friends at the other end of the bar," Rod said as he rose from his seat and walked toward the group of guys at the other side, the guys which seemed to be staring at Dave earlier.

Dave sat facing the bar for a few minutes, shyly looking to his right occasionally to watch the group at the far side. After a few minutes, Rod returned and sat next to Dave.

"Some of those guys looked like they were watching me before," Dave said cautiously.

"Lighten up a little, Dave. You're new here, and they think you're cute."

Dave's face broke a small smile, flattered.

Rod continued. "They were asking me if I knew the cubby guy in the pirate costume."

Dave, still smiling, turned to face Rod, a slight confusion in his eyes.

"Wow, you don't know a whole lot yet, do you?" Rod commented quietly.

Dave looked forward and down, shaking his head, silent.

"Okay, Dave, lighten up. Those guys down at the other end are just kinda regular guys, and they tend to hang out with the bear crowd, and, uh..."

Dave's eyes widened and his mouth gaped a bit.

"...and, uh, you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Dave smirked and shook his head again, still silent.

"Okay. A 'bear' is a gay-community image archetype for a guy that's kinda average-guy or masculine-looking, they tend to be bigger guys, they often wear facial hair, they tend to dress kinda blue-collar, stuff like that. Kinda like me. You'll get used to identifying the look after you've seen it often enough. Those guys, they're referring to you as a 'cub' because you're big and kinda stocky, like a younger version of the bear-image. Kinda make sense?" Rod squinted, hoping he'd explained things well enough.

Dave nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Anyway, they're nice guys, and they're probably going to want to be friendly with you because you're new and they think you're cute. It's a good thing, Dave."

Dave smiled and nodded.

Within two minutes, a few of the men did indeed come to other end of the bar and introduce themselves to Dave; and any anxieties Dave had were put to rest. They seemed like genuinely friendly guys and "regular" guys with whom Dave could relate. Dave didn't say much to them other than typical introductory comments and words of thanks when they complimented his costume. Dave was feeling comfortable with this group of people, even if he was largely silent. He does find that overtly sexual comments and jokes made him uncomfortable, particularly if they're directed at him, but he's willing to endure it. At one point, the large man in the shaggy blonde wig and the pink gown walked up to the group of them.

"Where're your costumes, guys?" the man said, affected and exaggerated, arms flailing.

When the rest of the group fell silent, Dave looked up from his seat and quietly-but-distinctly said, "I'm wearing a costume."

The crowd parted, and the man in the gown slid into the space in front of Dave. He must have been at least five inches taller than Dave, without the shaggy wig and the platform shoes. Dave looked up and smiled nervously.

"Yes you are," the gowned man said. "Have a name, pirate?"

"Captain Dave. Do you have a name?"

From a distance, the man was convincing as a matronly amazon with a glamorous gait and deadly attitude. At this close proximity, his five o'clock shadow was apparent under the heavy makeup, dispelling the illusion slightly.

"Ricky," said the man. "But I'm dressed as Babs Johnson."

"Who's that?" Dave asked as a few of the men in the immediate area moaned discontent.

The gowned man leaned in and lifted Dave's hat. "You are unbelievably cute and dangerously innocent, Captain Dave." With that, he leaned closer and placed a kiss on Dave's forehead and reached around his shoulders, giving him a gentle hug for a moment. "I'd sit on your lap, Cap'n, but I'm afraid I'd crush you. Hope to see you again when I'm out of costume."

He stood back up and winked at Dave as he slowly sauntered toward the dancefloor as some of the men whooped and a couple of others chanted in unison, snapping their fingers in time and high-fiving each other, " _can't help it, the girl can't help it, can't help it, the girl can't help it..._ "

The crowd around Dave dispersed, and Dave, recovering from a severe blush turned back to the bar and his bottle of beer. Rod was chuckling to himself. "They like you, Dave. You're alright."

Dave grinned and nodded, remaining silent for a while, thinking to himself that he'd been artistically terrorized twice in one night: once by a tiny girl dressed as a guy and secondly by a very big guy dressed almost convincingly as a woman. Still, he mused, he couldn't imagine dealing with either of these things competently six months ago; and a year ago, they'd have had him completely ruined on an emotional level. Now, though not perfectly comfortable, he was confident enough in the genuine nature of the people around him to be open as they seemed truly accepting of him. He finished his beer and sat quietly for a time in the comfortable presence of Rod. Finally Dave spoke quietly, nearly whispering to Rod, "Like, can everybody here tell I'm underage?"

"No, Dave," Rod answered smiling slightly as he shook his head. "They can tell you're young, sure. They can see that you're naïve, and, probably a little shy. Most of the guys here will respect that. Just err on the side of caution, and no one's going to push you into anything you're not ready for."

The two sat for a few minutes, not speaking, but it felt pleasant. Dave finished his beer and spoke. "I'm gonna cut. Follow me outside?"

Rod nodded and smiled. "Sure thing. Gimme a second to finish my beer."

The two walked outside and said farewell for the evening; Dave watched from his truck until Rod was safely back inside the building and then started on the drive home. It was still before ten o'clock, but Dave was ready to return home. The evening held many experiences for Dave: both good and bad, but the good ones outnumbered the bad ones.

As he returned home, he greeted his parents.

"Wow, that's a neat costume, David," Paul commented loudly.

David smiled. "Thanks, Dad. Gretchen came up with it in a matter of, like, three days."

"David," his mom posed, "you're going to need to invite Gretchen over for dinner sometime so your father and I can meet her."

"Uh..." David was consciously oblivious. "I'm going to head upstairs and crash for the night. Good night Mom, Dad."

His parents responded in kind, and David retired to his bedroom. After changing into a t-shirt and shorts, he sat for a while at his desk, studying the drawing Gretchen had given him several weeks ago. Articulate beast? Philosophical monster? The guys at Scandals obviously thought he was attractive. That was a start, he felt, to something, but he wasn't sure exactly what. He was just sort-of feeling his way into this world, and he was more comfortable with it than he'd have imagined he would be.

Monday morning held no surprises, pleasant or otherwise: just a normal, uneventful day. Nick and Carl had ceased to talk to Dave when they passed him in the hallway. This was no loss in Dave's mind as football season was over: he didn't need to pretend to get along with these guys for any reason. They weren't speaking to Johnno either, and that may pose a problem for Johnno being that both Nick and Carl would likely make the basketball team. Other than the not-unwelcome silent-treatment, there were no other repercussions from the Halloween party incident; and no apparent progress either. Johnno spent very little time with Gretchen immediately after the party: this was disappointing to Dave but not surprising as Johnno was still painfully timid in her presence despite any positive impressions which might have been made Saturday night. Speaking of Gretchen, Dave's parents wanted to meet her: how fucking peachy. Just when Dave was feeling closer to his parents than he had in years, just when he felt the time was approaching when he might be able to come out to them, his mom had to get designs on pairing him with Gretchen.

Gretchen was awesome. Johnno was a great guy. Dave would have loved to see Gretchen and Johnno together. Gretchen and Johnno only seemed to work when Dave was in the mix somewhere.

This wasn't working suddenly. All of the promise which a new school and new friends seemed to hold just a month ago was becoming a tangled mess, and Dave wasn't sure if it would get worse or better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs referenced are "Bela Lugosi's Dead" by Bauhaus and "The Girl Can't Help It" by Little Richard.
> 
> James Whale's "The Bride of Frankenstein" is indeed a masterpiece in my opinion and highly-recommended viewing. Take note: this will come up again.
> 
> And how the heck does David know who James Whale is? All will be revealed. Keep reading, and PM me if you think you know!
> 
> Babs Johnson is the lead character in John Waters' trash classic film "Pink Flamingos". Babs is portrayed in the film by gay culture icon Divine


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 7,900

**Chapter 18**

 

_Text of email sent to six individual recipients sent March 4, 2012, 8:38 PM_

Subject: Would appreciate help on a project  
From: comradeK at gmail dotcom

I'm contacting you because, about 4 months ago, you responded to a personal ad I placed requesting thoughts, opinions, and guidance on coming out.

Since that time, I have come out to some people close to me, and I was publicly outed at school. The results weren't good for me, but I'm dealing with it.

I am doing a project for my History class which involves collecting interviews, and I'd be interested to know if you would be willing to participate by allowing me to interview you on your personal experiences and impressions on the subject of coming out. Anonymity will be respected if that's your choice.

 Please let me know if you would participate.

Many thanks  
Dave

 

* * *

 

**Monday March 5**

David was out of bed at six o'clock in the morning. He felt refreshed and focused. He dressed himself in his workout clothes before descending the stairs to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. His dad probably wouldn't be up until the better part of another hour had passed. David decided that he'd wait until he was finished lifting to send a text message to Kurt; he didn't want to be distracting while Kurt was preparing for a day of school, and David certainly didn't want to disturb Kurt while he was driving to school.

To David's surprise, he received a message from Kurt only minutes after he started the coffee.

Kurt: _Good morning, David. I hope you're doing as well today as you seemed to be last night._ 6:10 AM

The message warmed David, and he smiled as he punched a response into his phone.

David: _Good morning, Kurt. I feel very good this morning. I hope you are doing the same, and I hope we can still talk today._ 6:13 AM

David had descended the stairs to the gameroom when Kurt's response arrived.

Kurt: _Yes, planning on it. Should I call at around 4 to make plans?_ 6:14 AM

David volleyed another message back to Kurt.

David: _We could just talk then on the phone, but you could stop by later if you'd like._ 6:15 AM

Before diving into the lifting, David decided to wait for Kurt's response, preparing to send a message back.

Kurt: _It depends on my homework, but, truthfully, I'd like to spend some time with my friend David tonight if I can._ 6:17 AM

David smiled widely as he responded.

David: _Good, then, I'll talk to you later. Don't forget, if you do come to visit, Blaine is invited also._ 6:17 AM

David was fastening his weightlifter gloves when Kurt's response arrived.

Kurt: _I will mention it. He's said that he wants to get acquainted with you. If not later today, definitely another time. I need to get on the road. Have a good day and talk later._ 6:20 AM

David: _Later, Kurt. Thank you._ 6:22 AM

Since he was no longer attending Thurston and really had no other options, David decided that implementing a weightlifting regimen was a necessary thing; and making it the first activity of his morning energized him for the day ahead. He did miss having another lifter to spot for him, but, even if a friend was available, it would be unrealistic to expect that he could meet at this early hour.

He'd be meeting with Rupert, his tutor, at ten o'clock. Hopefully, Rupert would have several lesson plans from David's teachers as he was eager to dive back into his school work. David would also want to touch base with his AP History teacher Mr. Williams about his oral history project and his new topic idea.

David finished his weightlifting for the morning and returned to the kitchen. His dad still hadn't made it into the kitchen, but he could hear movement in the direction of his dad's bedroom. David dispensed a mug of coffee for himself and his dad as well as a glass of orange juice for both of them. David was looking into the refrigerator eyeing-up the leftover pizza from the previous night's dinner when Paul finally entered the kitchen.

"Hey Dad, whaddaya say we kill this leftover pizza for breakfast?" David said over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Paul laughed heartily and smiled at David before answering, "I say that sounds like a great idea."

David smiled back and asked, "You think we should heat it or just eat it cold?"

Paul considered the question, then asked, "How greasy does it appear to be?" David brought the pizza over so Paul could see it. "Doesn't look bad at all. I say we just eat it cold."

"Fine, and I couldn't agree more," David smiled as he seated himself opposite Paul. "Dig in, Dad."

Father and son both helped themselves to the cold, leftover pizza: there was almost half of a large pizza remaining from the previous evening; and both Paul and David silently thought how they'd never have been permitted to have such a breakfast if David's mom was still around, and both were amused by the thought. Neither voiced it though, fearing it might lessen the good mood of the other.

"Hey, Dad, when the weather breaks a little, I was thinking I'd drive out to Faurot Park first thing in the morning and run every day. I'm doing the lifting right now, but, if I'm going to ace my Phys Ed final, I'll need to be in good all-around shape."

"Sounds like a good idea, David."

"Maybe you could come with me to the park sometime?" David asked, full of enthusiasm.

Paul laughed and shook his head. "David, it sounds like fun, but, really, I'd never be able to run the park with you; I'm not in that kinda shape any more. I'm not sure I was ever in that kinda shape."

David laughed also, realizing that it did seem somewhat of a stretch. "Well, you could walk briskly, and I could backtrack often so you could keep up with me." David wasn't entirely serious at that suggestion, but he did sincerely state the next part. "Dad, it wouldn't hurt for you to get some physical activity into your regular routine."

"Are you saying I'm out of shape?" Paul asked jokingly, good-naturedly.

"No, Dad," David replied with a smile; then his face straightened a little. "I just want you to be healthy so you'll be around for a while."

Paul nodded, swallowing a bite of cold pizza and downing it with a swig of water and smiling subtly but honestly, and directing his eyes at David's. "You're right, David, I could probably benefit from a brisk walk in the morning. My doctor told me that it would be a good idea if I became a little more physically active. And, yeah, I want to be around for a while too."

David's smile widened. It felt great that he was able to be this sincere with his dad. He'd had a fairly heavy evening with his dad the night before, but it ended with him feeling closer to his dad than he ever did.

"Well, David changed the subject, "I guess you're going out to Aunt Dee's today to leave the stuff you were packing for mom last night."

Paul looked down and away from David, into the plate before him. "Yeah."

"Dad, after last night, it doesn't bother me. I mean, I wish it wasn't that way, especially for you, but I can't dwell on it. I know I've got you, and I know I'm not gonna lose you."

Paul smiled and nodded at that.

David changed the subject again. "I'm planning on Kurt stopping by tonight. I've changed my idea for my History project, and I want to see if he'll contribute."

Paul looked up, interested. "What kind of project are you doing now? Not war veterans?"

"No, I want to do something about gay people coming out and being out in a small US city."

Paul nodded, an expression of interest on his face. "That's a subject you're more closely connected to, certainly. Do you think you'll find enough people to interview?"

"Well, I have three already: Kurt, his boyfriend Blaine, and myself. That's three more than I had yesterday when my topic was still something about war veterans. Plus, it's a topic of current interest. There are stories in the national and local news nearly every day dealing with gay rights. And, yeah, at this point, it's become personal to me."

Paul smiled. "Well, go with what your gut tells you, then. Are you interviewing parents and friends also?"

David smiled back at Paul. "You want to be part of this, don't you, Dad?"

"I don't want to interfere with your project, but, I mean, your situation has had a major impact upon me and the way you and I relate to each other."

"And, you know, I hadn't thought of that, but you're right, Dad. And there's Kurt's dad and possibly Blaine's parents. I was planning to make some contacts online also. That's a good idea, a really good idea. I'll start thinking of some interview questions from that angle."

 

* * *

 

Kurt was bouncy and enthusiastic as he greeted Blaine at his locker during his pre-homeroom rounds.

"Good morning, cutie," Kurt said with a flirtatious lilt to his delivery.

Blaine turned from his locker, looked over his shoulder, and smiled his picture-perfect smile. "Hi, Kurt," Blaine spoke quietly-but-cheerfully. "You seem energetic today!"

"Well, credit the recuperative powers of the weekend, a good night's sleep, and seeing my honey today," Kurt explained, affected-but-robust flirtatiousness still in place.

Blaine smiled and gently ran his hand from Kurt's shoulder to his elbow, looked quickly in both directions, and gave Kurt a quick kiss, too quick for Kurt to register or return, but a giggle rose out of Kurt nonetheless.

"Do you think you'll be able to come to see David with me tonight?" Kurt asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but definitely sometime soon," Blaine answered. "You said this has something to do with a History project?"

"I think it would be great if the two of you got acquainted, but David did seem all excited last night about his History project; and he said something about involving you as well as me, though he didn't explain anything in any detail beyond that."

"Well, it sounds interesting," Blaine remarked, "And I admit to wanting to get to know Karofsky a little better after everything you've told me about him."

"I need to be getting off to homeroom, Blaine," Kurt said as the second bell sounded. "We'll get our heads together later about maybe going to David's tonight, because I'm not entirely sure that I'm going, but I'm planning on it."

The two stole a brief kiss and went their separate ways in opposite directions down the hall.

 

* * *

 

After Paul and David finished breakfast, they went to their various morning obligations: David showering and preparing his school items in preparation for the arrival of Rupert, and Paul preparing to stop by his office and taking some of his wife's belongings out to her.

Ten o'clock brought Rupert's prompt arrival. Paul had left an hour before, and David let Rupert in, and, as usual, they situated themselves at the far side of the dining room table where David had readied his notebooks, textbooks, and laptop. The two seated themselves across the table from each other, and, after customary greetings, Rupert proceeded to tell David about the latest lesson plans and the work he'd need to do for the week.

Rupert was neat and organized, typically casually-dressed but always impeccably pressed-and-laundered. He was in his early twenties, tall and slender, bookish-looking, and bespectacled with a natural coiffe of dark auburn curls atop his head. He was friendly, but rarely talked about anything outside of David's lessons.

"Okay," Rupert began, handing David a printed page. "Here is the list of detailed chapters and assignments for each class. Tomorrow is test day, and I'll be here as long as it takes for you to take every test you missed for the two-week period that you've been away from your classes. It might be a good idea if you used today to study all of that material and wait until after you take the tests tomorrow to begin looking at the new material. Once you get past this point, the work will be a lot less concentrated."

David nodded. "It won't always be like that, right? Like, having all of my tests in one day?"

"No, they will be given when the rest of the classes are given them; it's just that in this particular situation, you need to get caught up to where the rest of the classes are." Rupert continued. "I should say that the amount of work you've accomplished so far is pretty amazing, David. If you perform well on your tests tomorrow, it should be considerably easier for you when the pace relaxes."

"So, come Wednesday, I'll be able to breathe easier?" David half-joked.

"Yep," Rupert snapped with a grin. "On other topics, Miss Stamart is picking up your Physics class since Mr. McCarthy refused. She's not the AP instructor, though, so you'll need to take all of the regular, non-AP tests and finals as well as the AP final for that class. Honestly, with the grades you've gotten in Physics thus far, that should not be a problem for you at all."

"Do you think I should get in touch with my friends who are still taking McCarthy's class to see if there's anything that might be on the AP exam which is not specifically covered in the lesson plan?" David asked.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Rupert explained. "Though they're basically the same class, I'm sure you know from taking the AP classes in the past that the teachers who teach them stress certain things which are likely to be on the AP exams whether they're stressed in the textbooks or not. Actually, it would be a good idea if you talked with your friends for all of your classes because that sort of interaction is part of the learning experience. Instructors don't give that sort of thing a lot of weight, but, I mean, how often do you and your friends talk about things that are covered in class and bounce them off of each other?"

"You're right about that," David considered. "Oh, could you tell Mr. Williams that I'd like to talk to him about my History project? If he could call when it's convenient sometime this week, I'd appreciate it."

"I'll let him know tomorrow when I return to the school with your completed tests. Speaking of, I'll be coming at eight o'clock tomorrow morning because of the number of tests that need to be completed. I know that's early, but it's easier that way because, after two tests in a row, you're going to want to take some kind of break and let your mind and eyes rest. I think you have eight tests to take tomorrow."

"Sounds about right," David said quietly, nodding his head.

"Well, is there anything that you want me to specifically review with you today before those exams? I can stay here for a few hours and do that; or if you want to take some time and look over your notes and then we can review some things, that works too."

"That sounds good," David began. "I'd prefer that you did hang out for a while while I look at my notes and make sure I am solid on all of this stuff. I'm pretty confident on most of this material, but there might be a few things I have some questions about."

"Would you like me just to throw out some random questions at you and see how you do?" Rupert asked.

"Yeah," David answered. "That sounds like a good idea, but let me look at the material for a while first. Then I'll know what I might need to work on."

"Sounds good, Dave," Rupert assured as he opened up his laptop to look at his schedule for the week.

Rupert stayed until about two o'clock. By that time, Paul had returned home and greeted Rupert: sometimes Paul doesn't see Rupert at all. Rupert's stay was longer than usual, but he helped David review some of the material upon which David would be tested the next day; and his stay the following day would likely be even longer.

As promised, Kurt called David at four o'clock and decided that he'd be stopping by David's at around six o'clock. Meanwhile, David and Paul ate a typical quiet dinner of take-out food: subs and salads.

"One of us is going to have to learn how to cook, Dad," David said, subtly joking while shaking his head.

"Do you think we should put a TV in the kitchen?" Paul suggested. "You know, one of those ones which mounts under the cabinets?"

"Why?" David raised an eyebrow and deadpanned. "So we can be distracted from the fact that we're eating pizza three nights a week, Chinese food twice a week, and burgers the other two nights?"

There was a moment of silence before Paul laughed; David smirked when he saw that his dad caught the sarcasm.

Paul was sensing more of David's dry sense of humor, and the line between that which was intended as humor and that which was sincere was becoming increasingly apparent. If Paul's willingness to understand and fully support David came as some welcome surprise to David, David's personality, which seemed increasingly more complex as the conversations between them became more frequent and more numerous, was illuminating to Paul. Sometime during the course of David's eighteen years, Paul had missed that David had developed a clever-if-somewhat harsh-sense of humor. This was tempered by the sincere side of David's personality which Paul had noticed as early as the previous summer. Now that there was just the two of them in the house and Paul was consciously paying David more mind, Paul found himself admiring the facets of David's character. Paul felt that David, no doubt, had a great deal of work to do, but he felt proud at the way David was taking so much upon himself after such a negative turn of events.

"Is your friend Kurt visiting tonight like you mentioned earlier today?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," David answered. "He said he'd be here around six."

"Hey," Paul suggested, "why not have your friends over for dinner sometime?"

David smiled sarcastically this time, making the humor inherent in his question completely obvious. "Oh, so we can be further distracted from the lack of variety in our dinners?" David laughed, but his face resigned to a smile. "Actually, I'd enjoy that, but let me at least find out what they all eat. Looking at Kurt, he doesn't appear to eat anything but rabbit food, nuts, and twigs."

Once again, Paul let out a laugh. "Well, I'd like to get to know some of your friends beyond a handshake and a hello."

"I'm sure I could arrange that, Dad."

The two men finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen of the paper bags, foil wrappings, and styrofoam boxes. Soon enough, it was six o'clock, and Kurt arrived promptly. Kurt greeted Paul, and David and Kurt descended to the gameroom for the evening.

"So," Kurt began, "you sounded so enthusiastic last night on the phone."

"Yeah," David sat down on the couch and began to explain, visibly animated by the idea of explaining his history project. "So, I need to collect interviews and construct an oral history project. I got this idea that I'd do a project about coming out and being out in a small US city. I'd appreciate it if you'd allow me to interview you for the project. Blaine also. My dad suggested that having some interviews from parents might be good, and I liked that idea as well."

Kurt answered with a polite smile. "David, of course I'll contribute an interview to your project. I'm pretty certain that Blaine would be glad to have you interview him also."

"I'm kinda excited about this because I think that it would be a great learning experience for me and, possibly, help me on a personal level with pulling all of these things into perspective. I mean, it's really just a school project, but it's maybe going to help me close the last few weeks of my life and get me started on the rest of my life going forward." David focused on Kurt intently as he spoke. "I think it could only help my grade that my project is about something currently in the news almost daily."

Kurt nodded. "I agree with all of that, David. Just let me know when you want me to do the interview."

"Well, I'll need to come up with some interview questions. I've started that, but I need to fine-tune some of them. Also, all of the interviewees will need to sign release forms. It's a formality, but it's necessary. You can be anonymous or pseudonymous if you like. That's sometimes frowned upon by the strict oral history people, but, for certain topics, it's understood that an interviewee may want to retain their confidentiality."

"That's nothing I'm concerned with," Kurt remarked. "Anyone who isn't already aware of my orientation is not likely to be surprised by it either."

"That's something I'm on the fence about," David countered. "I mean, my name will be on the project as its author, but I don't think I can honestly do this project without contributing my own story, and I'm not sure I want that to be publicly known with such certainty."

"I can understand that, David," Kurt continued, "but, at the same time, it's a closing of that part of your life and the beginning of you moving forward; it might benefit you to leave no doubt in the mind of the people who are reading and evaluating the project."

David nodded. "Yeah, what am I thinking? The only people who are going to see this thing are me, my teacher, and any of the interviewees, if they're even interested."

"Oh, I am going to want to see the finished project, David. I'm going to be part of it, my boyfriend will probably be part of it, and you will have written it. Given how I've seen your analytical mind works, I'm interested to see how it all comes together."

David continued. "I made some contacts online last fall. Hopefully, I can get some interviews with them because some of them had some very interesting stories to tell. If this goes the way I want it to go, there will be some very interesting perspectives from those people also."

Kurt nodded, pondering. "So, what form will this finally take? Will there be an audio element or a text portion or both?"

"Well, the actual audio interviews will need to be kept on file to prove that none of the interviews were misquoted or pulled out of context in any extreme way. Oral histories can be an audio assembly or a text which includes transcriptions. The text part is required for the project; but my teacher is encouraging us to do an audio piece as well. Because only the text part is required, the grade for the AP exam will be based on the text portion. If we have an accompanying audio portion, it could improve our grades for the class itself."

Kurt nodded. Honestly, he was expecting to be more interested in this project given David's enthusiasm of the previous evening. Still, Kurt liked the idea of being involved in such a project, even if it just amounted to a high-school final exam grade for a friend. "When do you want to interview me?" Kurt asked.

"How about now?" David replied.

"I thought you said that you hadn't finalized the interview questions," Kurt replied, somewhat taken aback, but still open to the idea.

"I haven't, but I want to get familiar with how the process of recording, downloading, and editing goes; plus I want to see how comfortable I am at asking these questions and get accustomed to using the recorder. If tonight's interview is bad, we can always do another when I have all the bugs worked out. We should probably head up to my bedroom to do this because that's where the digital recorder is; besides, Dad's watching TV so it will be quieter up there."

Kurt followed David up the stairs to David's bedroom. It was almost night time, and David needed to turn on some lights. Still, even with the lights on, his room was fairly dark.

David moved his desk and desk chair close to the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed and asked Kurt to take a seat, either on the chair or the trunk. After Kurt was seated in the desk chair, David opened a notebook in which he had written a rough outline of interview questions sat down on the trunk. The small digital recorder was about the size of a cell phone; David made certain that it was charged, and he placed it on the desk between the two of them.

"Okay, I'm going to ask the questions. After I've finished asking a question, I'll visually signal you to answer." David nodded and waved his hand showing how he'll signal for Kurt to answer. "I don't want our voices to overlap, so wait until I'm completely finished asking the questions and my signal for you to answer. I'd like your answers to sound more like you're telling a story rather than directly answering interview questions: in other words, if I played back just your answers, I'd like it to sound like you're telling your account to the listener. At some points, I might develop questions along the way also, but I'll wait for you to signal me when you're finished talking, like wave or nod or something, so I know I can ask the next question. I might be writing stuff down while you talk, so don't let that distract you, okay?"

Kurt smiled and nodded. He was impressed at David's methodical manner of outlining the interview format.

David spoke, "Any questions before we begin?"

"No, I'm ready," Kurt answered as he shook his head.

"Okay then, here goes." With that, David reached to the digital recorder and switched it on.

The interview went well. So well, it exceeded David's expectations. His questions, he found, were more complete and comprehensive than he thought. Kurt's answers were fluid and expressive; some answers were blunt as the content dictated. David was able to formulate and write more questions as some of Kurt's answers gave him further ideas. The entire interview filled nearly forty minutes of time, which seemed like great deal of material. Of course, it was unlikely that all of it would be used or quoted, but that was something which would be determined as David amassed more interviews and decided which points were most important as the project developed a sharper focus. Finally, when David was satisfied that he had no more questions and no further points he wanted Kurt to expand upon, he pressed the stop switch on the recording device.

"How'd I do?" Kurt asked with an almost nervous smile.

"I think you did great," David answered enthusiastically. "How was I as an interviewer?"

"You were kinda awesome, David. Your questions didn't seem leading or emotional; they were mostly analytic. And you seemed really professional, sort-of, I mean, when I talked specifically about some of the problems I encountered, you remained focused and determined rather than letting what I was saying distract you." David knew that Kurt was referring to Kurt recounting the difficult time David had given him at McKinley.

"Well, it's gotta be an honest project," David explained. "I know I said and did some pretty horrible things to you, but I wouldn't want you to varnish over that." David looked down and away from Kurt for a moment; then he looked back up at him directly. "It doesn't seem like it bothers you to talk about it."

"It doesn't bother me, David," Kurt answered. "You and I are friends. We have a couple of big things in common here, and, like you said before, it doesn't matter how we got here; what's important is that we are here."

David nodded, an unsure expression on his face.

"For your part," Kurt asked, "are you going to address the same events and discuss your conduct during that part of your life?"

"Uh-it's going to be hard to own up to, but I don't think the project would be honest without it."

A few moments of silence passed in the room. Finally Kurt spoke.

"Y'know, David, I hated seeing you in that hospital bed a week ago."

David looked at Kurt with a truly annoyed expression. "You think it was any better for _me_?" The expression, statement, and delivery would have been classic-Karofsky-hilarious were the subject not so weighty.

Kurt gasped and shook his head. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out right, David. That's not what I meant. What I was trying to say is that, regardless of how horrible you were to me when we were going to McKinley, despite the physical abuse and the death threats and everything else, that person I saw in the hospital was crushed in a way that was far beyond anything you did to me in the past could have possibly justified."

David looked away, avoiding Kurt's eyes, nodding. "I'm better now, though."

"I know it," Kurt acknowledged. "This is going to sound crazy, but that person who used to threaten me at McKinley? There was something amazing about his anger." David's expression confounded as Kurt continued to talk. "Okay, I wish it hadn't been used against me, that part really _was_ horrible, David, and I'm not going to pretend that it wasn't; but could you use that energy for something productive? You could accomplish amazing things if you could."

"I'm not even sure I could access that part of me any longer," David's expression went from one of bafflement to one of defeat. "When I was at McKinley, I was terrified of what I felt and hated myself so much that I lashed out at any suggestion that I might have actually been gay. By the time I got to Thurston, I was somehow weakened by it. It's funny: I could get in someone's face if they referred to something as 'gay' or called someone a 'faggot', I could defend other people; but when it was turned on me, I was crippled. I dreaded people actually knowing that about me."

"Well, it was just a thought," Kurt said. "I'm sorry if I shot down your mood. You seemed so psyched earlier."

"It's okay," David mustered a small smile as he nodded.

"Do you want to listen to the playback of my interview?" Kurt asked.

"Mmmm...not right now; I'll check it later," David replied. "So, like, Blaine couldn't make it tonight?"

"No, too much homework. We'll get together with him sometime soon, though. I think he'll be okay with doing this interview thing, no problem."

David smiled wider and laughed a little. "Cool. My dad said that he'd like me to have some of my friends here for dinner sometime. He wants to get to know my friends a little, I guess." Kurt nodded agreeably. A few moments of silence passed before David asked nervously, unsure, "Uh, do you have, like, any pictures of you and Blaine together, uh, like, on your phone?"

Kurt cocked his head and smiled slightly but proudly. "Uh, yeah, of course I do."

"Can I see some?" David asked quietly, politely.

"Sure," Kurt nearly exclaimed as he produced his phone and summoned the gallery function.

David stood up from his seat and walked the few steps to sit on the floor beside Kurt's chair as Kurt flipped through the individual photos on his phone and tilted it in David's direction. There were photos of several other people and things also, but there was no shortage of photos of Kurt and Blaine.

Kurt narrated as he arrived upon certain photos. "This is the first picture taken of us right when we started seeing each other." The candid photo showed the two of them dressed in navy-with-red-trim blazers and smiling while sitting in one of the finely-appointed rooms at Dalton Academy. David smiled sincerely, admiring the image; Kurt turned to see David's reaction. Kurt slid to another image after a few moments.

"This is Blaine and me goofing around at the mall." In the photo, the two of them were arm-in-arm and making silly faces, the photo obviously snapped by Kurt while holding the camera at arm's length away and pointing it at them. David smiled wider and chuckled. Another similar photo followed, it was obviously taken the same day: Blaine had his arms wrapped around Kurt and looked as if he was about to kiss him, but the pose was silly and exaggerated; once again, the photo was snapped by Kurt himself while holding his camera at a distance. Kurt slid to the next photo.

"Mercedes snapped this one at the Regional showchoir competition." The photo showed Kurt and Blaine, arm-in-arm again, but appearing profoundly joyous, enormous smiles on their faces and surprise in their eyes. They were dressed in black dress shirts with gold bowties and matching suspenders. "That was when they had just announced us as the winners of that competition."

"You guys are great together, Kurt. These are great pictures." David spoke. There was no element of jealousy in his voice; just the presence of wonder in his eyes and admiration in his speech as he looked at the photos.

Kurt slid to the next picture. "This is my favorite." It was a very posed-looking photo of Kurt and Blaine dressed casually-but-dressy in front of what looked to be a professional photographers' backdrop. They were both smiling, appearing pleasant-but-posed.

"That's a nice picture too, Kurt, but I liked the one from the Regionals competition better," David commented.

"Really?" Kurt commented, surprised.

"Yeah, I mean, that one is nice and proper-looking; but the other one looks so amazingly happy. The one that looks posed and professional, well, you could take a picture like that any time. The one from the showchoir competition: you could have only taken that picture at that exact moment in time. But don't get me wrong, they're all really great, Kurt."

"Thank you," Kurt said, giving a slight giggle as he flipped through a few more. "Is there any particular reason why you wanted to see pictures of Blaine and me?"

David smiled and shrugged. "I dunno. Yeah...I guess because I wanna have that someday. A great boyfriend, y'know. A phone full of awesome pictures of me and my guy. That's really the only reason, I guess. Just looking forward to it, that's all."

"You don't sound at all jealous or anything," Kurt observed.

"Uh, I'm not," David explained. "I know there's probably no one better for you than Blaine and you _for_ Blaine. I'm maybe envious a little; but, then, I know I'm gonna get there, and I'm really looking forward to that. Sometimes I think it helps me to see stuff like that, to know that it _can_ and _will_ happen for me."

Kurt smiled and laughed to himself, shaking his head.

"What?" David asked, still smiling widely.

"You're sweet, and you're romantic, and when you find that guy, David, whoever he is is going to be one very lucky, very happy man."

This made David blush through his smile. "Do you know what my dad said to me last night?" David asked. Kurt smiled blankly and shook his head; David continued. "You know that thing you said to me in when I was in the hospital? The thing about something I'm looking forward to in the future?" Kurt's eyes widened, and he nodded, remaining silent. "Well," David continued, "I asked my dad what he was looking forward to, and he said he was looking forward to me finding a partner and falling in love; and he said that he wants to be there when I marry the person that I choose to share my life with."

Kurt smiled wide. "That is amazing David. You're a delirious romantic, and now I know where you get it from." David chucked and blushed as Kurt continued. "David, your dad is fantastic. Thank you for telling me that."

In this moment, Kurt looked at David's face, and David appeared so incredibly filled with hope that he appeared downright, for lack of a better word, _luminous_ ; and it was Kurt's immediate inclination to reach over and embrace David.

The text-message alert on Kurt's phone sounded. It was a message from Blaine. David stood up, still smiling widely, picked up his notebook and pencil, and sat down in the chair at the far corner of the bedroom. Kurt asked, "Do you mind if I call Blaine?"

David shook his head. "No. Go right ahead. And ask him about doing the interview, and when might be a good day for him."

Kurt dialed Blaine and spoke as Blaine answered. "Hello, cutie."

David smirked at the affectionate nickname.

"I'm still over at David's house." Kurt spoke, pausing between sentences as Blaine spoke on his side of the call. "David's doing a project for his History class, and he'd like to interview you for it. Yes, I'll tell you about it later tonight when I get home or tomorrow in school."

David busied himself making annotations to his interview questions as Kurt talked to Blaine. The telephone conversation didn't last long.

Ending the call after a polite "Goodbye, Blaine; I'll talk to you within the hour." Kurt then turned his attention toward David. "I really should be going. I lost track of time with the interview and talking to you." Kurt paused, then added, "As usual."

"Yeah, it's very easy to do," David responded. "It will actually benefit me to get a good night's sleep anyway. I have an entire day of tests tomorrow: every single test I've missed in the last two weeks, I will be taking tomorrow."

Kurt shook his head. "That sounds terrible, David."

"Yeah," David answered, "but after that, the most difficult catching-up part will be over then."

"Do you need to study tonight after I leave?" Kurt asked, sounding a bit panicked or guilty.

"No, I did a ton of studying today: that's pretty-much all I did today was study, " David answered. "I'll follow you downstairs and let you out."

"Oh," Kurt interjected, "Blaine said that he might be able to make it over here tomorrow if that works."

"That might work," David responded. "Let me make sure of my energy level after all my tests; and I'll check with Dad about dinner. I'll definitely let you know by tomorrow afternoon, maybe around one?"

The two got to the bottom of the stairs and into the entryway leading to the front door.

"Thank you for coming over, Kurt; and thank you for letting me interview you for my project."

Kurt smiled, politely. "You're welcome. And thank _you_ , David, for all of the excellent, thought-provoking discussion I inevitably have while I'm talking with you."

"You're welcome, Kurt." David smiled back.

Paul emerged from the family room and walked toward the boys in the entryway. "Are you leaving, Kurt?"

"Yes, Mr. Karofsky."

"Thanks for stopping by, and have a good night," David's father said.

"Thank you," Kurt returned. "The both of you have a good night yourselves."

David opened the door to let Kurt out onto the sidewalk when both David and Paul said, in unison, "Drive safely."

Kurt turned and smirked at them: "You're two of a kind," he said as he walked to his car.

Paul and David laughed as David closed the door behind Kurt.

"What did Kurt think of your History project idea?" Paul asked.

"He liked it," David replied. "He let me interview him, and he gave me a few ideas also."

"Sounds good, David."

"His boyfriend, Blaine, might be able to come here tomorrow to do an interview also. I have a whole day of tests tomorrow, so I told them it might need to wait for another day, but if I'm feeling up to it and it's okay with you, I was going to try to arrange that dinner idea you mentioned."

Paul nodded. "Just don't spread yourself too thin, David. Get your rest and see how you feel after your tests."

"Well, I said something like that to Kurt exactly; and with that, I'm going upstairs and going to sleep for the night. Good night, Dad."

"Have a good night yourself, David," Paul said, smiling subtly.

 

* * *

  

Kurt arrived home and made his way directly up to his bedroom to call Blaine. It was past ten o'clock, and he thought to call Blaine before he did his night-time skin-care routine.

"Hello, Kurt," Blaine answered from his end.

"Hi, Blaine. I just got in."

"So, tell me about Karofsky wanting to interview me?"

Kurt explained. "His final exam for his AP History class is an oral history project, which means it consists of interviews. His topic, he decided last night, is about being out in a small US city. He interviewed me tonight."

"Cool. How'd it go?"

"David was a very good interviewer, and he was happy with the way I answered his questions."

"I'll definitely let him interview me," Blaine said. "Hopefully, tomorrow will work."

"Yes, well, David has, like, a day full of tests to make up tomorrow for the school he missed. He said that, provided that he isn't too mentally exhausted after that, he could have us over. His dad had said that we could come over there for dinner also. His dad is amazingly supportive, and said he wants to get to know David's friends."

"Well, Kurt," Blaine answered, "we'll need to see how tomorrow plays out; and I'm pretty tired, and you're probably eager to go to sleep yourself."

"Yes, dear Blaine. Good night and I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt. Good night."

With that, the two boys ended their calls. Kurt departed to his dressing room for his skin-care obligation, returning about ten minutes later. As he put his phone on its charger, he noticed that a text message had come in without him noticing earlier in the evening.

David: _Hey, Kurt. Thanks so much for letting me interview you. I just played part of it back, and it sounds good. Have a good night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow._ 9:42 PM

Kurt composed a quick message back to David.

Kurt: _The interview was a great experience, and talking with you is always a welcome thing. Good night, I'll be in touch tomorrow._ 10:13 PM

Kurt sent the message, hoping that the alert didn't wake David because he knew that David needed his sleep for his day of tests tomorrow. Despite their strange past together, or perhaps as a _consequence_ of their past together, Kurt was beginning to feel an incredible bond of friendship with David. It wasn't so much in the way that they were alike as it was in the way that, despite all of David's past fears, David continually laid his soul bare to Kurt in such a fearless manner. As David had stated that he envied what Kurt had with Blaine, Kurt felt some level of envy for the man who'd be fortunate enough to win David's heart someday: in David, Kurt was seeing an incredible wealth of emotion and depth balanced with intelligence and an intense power of reasoning. If David's personal strength was lacking on some level, Kurt felt certain that it would return. Warm thoughts about this friendship which was proving rewarding beyond any of his expectations drew Kurt into the warmth of sound slumber.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 12,500

**Chapter 19**

 

**Tuesday March 6**

David woke at his as his alarm clock sounded at six o'clock. He had eight tests to take today when Rupert arrived; and he was hoping that he could get together with Kurt and Blaine late in the afternoon. He also wanted to get in touch with Sean as Rupert had suggested that discussing his lessons with his classmates would be beneficial.

After Kurt had left on the previous night, David checked his email before he went to sleep to discover that Roger and Steve had responded to the message he sent to them. They both seemed interested in participating in the project: Roger agreed to be interviewed without hesitation; Steve was less committal, but said he would be interviewed if his identity was not revealed.

David didn't feel quite as energetic as he had the previous morning. He was hoping that a short period of lifting might help clear his head. He didn't want to exert himself too much with the heavy burden of the tests just two hours away. As he made his way from the bedroom to the kitchen, he found his father already up and about, moving around the kitchen.

"Good morning, Dad," David spoke as he entered the kitchen. "What's going on? Why up so early?"

"I thought I'd get up early and make sure you had a good breakfast before you had to take all of those tests today," Paul answered.

"You're gonna cook?" David asked, somewhat bemused and not entirely awake.

"Yes," Paul answered, mock-defensive. "I looked up 'high energy breakfast ideas' on the computer, and found some that even I won't be able to mess up. I hope." Paul snickered at the last.

David shook his head a little, still trying to shake the sleep out of his head. "Need any help?"

"No, I think I've got this," Paul said as he turned to face some items on the counter. "If you want to do your morning workout, you can do that. I'll have breakfast ready by the time you're back upstairs."

"I actually wasn't going to be as long today as I've been, I don't want to wear myself out or anything; but I gotta do something to get my blood moving."

David went to the gameroom, stretched, loosened his arms, and pulled on his weightlifter gloves. He inclined the bench and settled in to do some slow, steady reps, breathing deeply, getting his heart beating healthily.

It was doing the trick. David was feeling more awake, and with the activity, his mood lifted from the morning haziness to a genuinely positive attitude. After a while, he could smell the food his dad was cooking in the kitchen, and it smelled great, making him hungrier than he thought he was. It caused him to increase his speed as he became eager to finish his reps and eat.

Completing his workout, perhaps slightly shy of what he had planned, David nearly ran up the half-flight of stairs to the kitchen.

"Dad, whatever you're doing in here, it smells like you're doing something right," David announced, smiling curiously.

Paul laughed. "I used to cook, years ago, decades ago, then I got out of the habit and got lazy about breakfast. Sit down and relax. I was going to have half of a grapefruit. You can have the other half while I finish cooking this."

David sat down at the table. Paul had already dispensed mugs of coffee and glasses of orange juice for both of them. David picked up the grapefruit and commenced to peel it, separating the grapefruit into approximate halves once peeled. He began eating his half while his dad came away from the range with two plates.

"Crazy way to eat a grapefruit," Paul observed.

"Naw, easier this way, Dad. I don't have to deal with trying to spoon out sections and making a mess."

"Yeah, but how am I going to put sugar on this, David?" Paul said, eyeing the remaining peeled half.

"You could skip the sugar," David shrugged.

"You're subversively trying to make me healthy, aren't you?" Paul sarcastically deadpanned.

David laughed. "I guess that's where I inherited my 'dry wit', as Kurt describes it." David's eyes shifted to the plate Paul placed in front of him. "What is this? It looks and smells great?"

"It's scrambled eggs, onions, hot peppers, and sausage rolled up in a flatbread," Paul answered. "Some hot sauce in there too, it'll be a little spicy."

David smiled curiously as he reached for his plate, studying the food. The assembly was surprisingly neat-looking, he thought. Both men grabbed and hoisted their flatbread-sandwiches at the same time, eyeing each other as if looking for reactions, finally giving into their hunger and anticipation, each taking a large bite of their wrap at the same time.

After chewing for a couple of seconds, David looked up at his dad, gave an approving expression, and nodded. As he swallowed, he cleared his throat and said, "Dad, this is really good; and, like you said, spicy."

"It's not too spicy for you, is it?" Paul asked, slightly concerned.

David laughed. "I'm the guy who stops at the burger joint for bacon-double-cheeseburgers at midnight. There's not much my stomach can't handle."

"You probably got that from me also," Paul smiled.

The two finished their breakfasts, and David helped Paul clear the table, putting the plates and glasses in the sink. They sat back down at the table to leisurely finish their coffee. It was still well-over an hour before Rupert would arrive.

"Breakfast was great, Dad," David remarked. "You should do that more often. Oh, I see you choked down that grapefruit, and without sugar." Sarcastic at the last.

"Yeah, you know what, I didn't miss the sugar, really, and it was easier to eat that way," Paul admitted.

"Ah...for me being just a dumb kid, I get some good ideas sometimes, huh?"

Paul smiled and nodded. "More coffee?"

"No, Dad, this is good. I don't want to be wired and jittery for all of my tests. Speaking of, I'm gonna go upstairs and grab a shower before Rupert gets here."

"Sounds good, David. I'll be going to the office, but I won't be leaving immediately. I'm going to clean up a little in here then probably leave at around eight."

David finished the last of his coffee, then went up the stairs, showered, and dressed; his dad had left by the time he finished. He had been downstairs for at least fifteen minutes when Rupert arrived about five minutes before eight o'clock.

Within seventy-five minutes of Rupert's arrival, David had completed the first two tests. Rupert was impressed with the speed at which David was able to work. "We are ahead of schedule, Dave. We could take a break now as I was planning yesterday, but, at this rate, I'm going to let you make that call."

"What do we have left?" David asked.

"Well, you finished two Calc tests in record time," Rupert said through a slightly astonished smile.

"I'm a natural at stuff like that," David offered, "It's one of the things that I'm really good at."

"Okay, that leaves us with two Physics tests, two Spanish tests, one American Lit, and one History test. There are also two writing assignments, one in Lit and one in History, but we won't worry about that until after. They both count as test grades, but, given the circumstances, the teachers have been really good about pushing the due dates back for another week."

"I'm on a roll. Hit me with either of those History or AM Lit tests. Then we'll think about resting my brain for a few."

David actually completed both the History and American Literature tests within an hour. "Okay," Rupert remarked, "I don't care how much of a roll you feel you're on, you're gonna rest that brain for thirty, Dave."

David stood from his seat, stretching and smirking at Rupert's comment. "Well, now I am feeling it. My head needs a rest." David stopped by a window and looked out. "Looks like a pretty nice day outside."

"Oh," Rupert commented, "it is, for early March especially."

"Wanna step out into the backyard with me for a while?"

"Sure. Could always use some fresh air."

David led Rupert through the kitchen, and the two of them exited the side door which leads around the house to the backyard. The sun had burned off the early-morning frost, but there was still some mist rising from the grass.

Rupert walked out ahead of David, looking around to the edges of the yard. "You have a nice big piece of yard back here."

David had pulled a football out of a large, plastic storage box on the back porch, smacked it a couple of times to check the pressure, and called out to Rupert, holding the football up. "Hey, wanna toss it around?"

Rupert looked back at David and smiled, uncertain. "I can try, but I was never very good at that, so I make no guarantees that it will be good for either of us."

David smirked and lobbed the football at Rupert. "You'll do fine, I'm sure. I'm outta practice, and I played right guard and rarely ever had to throw the ball anyway."

Rupert held out his arms and caught the ball. "I dunno, Dave, that was pretty dead-on accurate." Rupert threw the ball back in David's direction. It was fairly accurate but not a fast throw. "Wobbly. Told you I was never good at that."

"Hey, yeah, wobbly, but you got it to me." David threw the ball back to Rupert. Once again, an accurate toss.

"You're doing pretty well, Dave." Rupert tossed another unsteady ball back to David: less accurate this time; David had to run a little to catch it. "Sorry about that," Rupert apologized.

"Hey, I still caught it, and working for it a little is not a bad thing." David tossed the ball back to Rupert.

This went on for several minutes. David worked a slight sweat which magnified when they re-entered the house; the activity felt refreshing to him. It had been weeks since he did anything active and outdoors; the sensation it gave him was definitely welcome.

Settling down, the two relaxed for a moment in the living room with glasses of water. "So, Rupert," David began, "you did pretty well out there."

Rupert laughed. "Yeah, right. Short distance, wobbly, barely-accurate throws: I did just fine." Sarcastic.

"Well, it was good for me to get outside and move around like that," David said, "and it was good of you to humor me like that."

"Well, you did so well with the tests thus far, we're over an hour ahead of schedule," Rupert explained. "If you get done early, and I leave early, the better for me all-around; but we can have some fun while we're at it, especially because time permits."

"So, Rupert," David inquired, "do you get a lot of jobs like this?"

"I get a lot of tutor jobs. Not many like this."

"What's different about this one?"

"Well, a bunch of stuff. First, most of the jobs I get are, like, an elementary-age kid has trouble with long-division or a junior-high kid has trouble factoring binomials. Those kinda jobs can take a couple of hours over the course of a week. Of course, they frequently call back for more help, but it's still very short-term. With you, this will go on for a few months steady. It's still temporary, but it's going to keep me occupied for a longer period of time with a steady income for those months; and that's good for me."

Rupert continued. "Plus, you have a personality. You've shown me that you'll work your butt off to get caught up. You're motivated and you're basically teaching yourself. All that makes my job very easy."

David smiled and nodded. "I really don't want to wait another year to technically graduate. You know why I left school, right?" David's expression became a bit unsure at the last comment.

"I was told something about it first-off; then I kinda figured some things out from the way some of the teachers reacted. It's not part of my job to pry, and I won't ask anything that's out-of-bounds. I am curious to know a couple of things, but I won't just flat-out ask unless you're okay with it."

"Sure, go ahead." David offered with some hesitance.

"Okay," Rupert began. "You're this smart kid, you're athletically-inclined, you were on the football team, you're not a small guy, I'd imagine you could take care of yourself if push came to shove, you have no social or learning issues I can detect: I guess I just am curious why you feel you can't go back to a school environment."

David's answer was not immediate. "Yeah, you're right, I really don't want to go into all that. Honestly, I miss some of the people, I miss some of the teachers, actually, and I miss just being around people sometimes. That gives me more time to hit the books, though." David paused for a moment. "I appreciated you tossing the football around with me earlier."

Rupert nodded. "It was kinda cool for me too, actually."

"So, like, you don't plan on being a tutor all your life, right?"

Rupert laughed slightly. "No, I want to be a full-time teacher. I'm engaged, and we're putting off getting married until after I get more secure employment. The tutoring is steady, but hardly the same as a full-time, non-temp position."

"How long have you been engaged?"

"About seven months at this point. My girlfriend...er... _fiancee_ and I both agree that it's best to wait until things are more secure with my work."

David nodded. "Does she work?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's a nutritionist at an assisted-care community. Really nice job, actually."

"Do you substitute-teach?" David asked.

"Yeah, but that's less reliable than the tutoring sometimes," Rupert answered.

"Should we get back to the tests?" David suggested.

Rupert smiled and gave an affirmative nod as the two stood up and headed back to the dining room table.

The two didn't formally break for lunch: David wasn't hungry and preferred to finish the tests as soon as he could, and Rupert ate half of a sandwich he'd brought with him. When David completed the last test (he saved the two Spanish tests for last), Rupert proclaimed, "I was planning to be here until three o'clock, but it's not even one-thirty."

David smirked. "Well, this way I can maybe take a nap or something. I was going to try to meet up with some friends tonight. And you get to leave early, which you said helps you out."

"Yes, and much appreciated," Rupert affirmed. "Okay, David, I'm going to get going. Rest that brain. I'll see you tomorrow. Is nine o'clock okay?"

"Sure, nine's okay," David reassured.

"Just wanted to make sure," Rupert added. "I'd been coming at ten, but I'm going to need to be here longer every day going forward now that you're up-to-speed with the class."

"Don't forget to remind Mr. Williams to get in touch with me sometime soon about my oral history project," David reminded.

"Will do." Rupert collected his items and moved toward the front door. Just before showing himself out, he turned around and spoke to David. "You know, there's is something really great about these tutoring gigs sometimes."

"What's that?" David asked.

"When I get a student who is a pleasure to work with, that's great, definitely. See you tomorrow, Dave."

David smiled as he rose to see Rupert out the door. "Thanks, Rupert. Glad I'm not a problem." Characteristic Karofsky sarcastic delivery followed with a sincere smile. "Have a good day."

After closing the door behind Rupert, David sent text messages to Kurt and Sean, basically greeting them for the day and informing them that his test-marathon was over.

Paul returned from his rounds before two o'clock. "Hey, David. Did I miss Rupert? Is he gone already?"

David answered. "Yeah, Dad. I finished the tests a lot quicker than he'd thought I would, and that worked out better for him." David continued. "Cool if we maybe do that dinner thing with my friends like you mentioned yesterday?"

"Sure. Just let me know how many we're feeding and we'll get our heads together on what food we should order and what time we're shooting for."

"Well, I was going to invite Sean and Kurt, and Kurt may be bringing Blaine, so that's three plus you and me. I'll text them and see who can make it. I'm going to try to nap for a while before then."

Paul was very conscious of David's situation. He wanted to be everything his son could want, but he knew he couldn't take the place of David's friends; and he felt terrible that David was currently so isolated from people of his own age. Dinner with David's friends might be potentially awkward, but Paul knew few ways of actually getting David to interact with his peers for the time being. This was within the scope of something that Paul could do.

David texted messages to Kurt and Sean again, inviting them to dinner and asking them when they might be arriving. He drifted to sleep and woke at three-thirty to the sound of an incoming call alert. David bolted upright with a start, shaking the sleep out of his head, and composed himself as he answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dave? It's Mr. Williams, your AP History teacher."

"Hello, Mr. Williams," David collected himself, shaking his head. "How are you doing?"

"Doing well, thanks. Your tutor told me that you wanted me to call you concerning your oral history project."

"Yes, thank you," David paused. "You'll have to excuse me, I spent all morning taking the tests I missed, and I was just asleep."

"Would you rather I called back another time?" Mr. Williams offered.

"No, no, this is fine," David continued, a bit groggy. "I need to get up anyway."

"Well, if you need a moment to gather your thoughts, that's okay," Mr. Williams assured. "First, though, I want to tell you that I graded the test that your tutor brought back with him, and you scored a ninety-seven percent. That's as good as anyone else in the class did on it. So, you get a solid A on the work you missed. I need to say that your answers to the essay questions are always especially good."

David smiled, waking up at the news. "Thank you, Mr. Williams."

"You earned it, David. Thank yourself. Are you ready to talk about your project?"

David nodded, having thought about what he'd say in advance earlier in the day. "Sure. I _was_ going to interview surviving World War II veterans, but, honestly, I was having trouble making solid contacts to be interviewed."

"That's understandable given the age they are at this time."

"So, I thought I'd change my project and interview local members of the gay community and focus on their life in a small US city. I may extend the interviews to their family members also."

There was a period of silence before Mr. Williams spoke. "I like it. It's focused; and it's current. It will also serve as a document of this time period. It's going to fall into a different area of oral history than most of the projects which the other students are doing. You couldn't do the same project again in five years' time and get the same results, so it will be like a time-capsule of-sorts. Are you having trouble finding people to interview?"

"No," David replied. "Not at all. I have one interview already. I hope to have another by the end of the day. I have at least two others who said that they would interview."

There was another period of silence before Mr. Williams spoke. "David, I'm aware of your situation, and know this project is going to be a personal one for you. Given that, I support what you're doing one-hundred percent. If you need any help or advice on how to put together your final project or edit the interviews, feel free to ask me any time."

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," David spoke, finally fully awake and newly confident on his project. "You really think my idea is good?"

"David," Mr. Williams answered, "none of my other students are taking on so interesting a social topic as yours." David could hear the firmness in Mr. Williams' tone of voice. "I am very-much looking forward to your final project."

"Thank you again," David said, politely.

"Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No," David answered, "I mostly wanted to make sure that you thought my project topic was a strong one."

"It definitely is, David. If you should need any help or suggestions, just get in touch with me, and I'll call you like I did just now."

"Thanks for calling, and have a good day."

"You're welcome, and keep up the excellent work, David. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mr. Williams."

David ended the call feeling more enthusiastic about his history project. He looked at his phone to see that both Sean and Kurt had texted him about dinner. Sean said that he could be there at about four-thirty; Kurt said that he'd arrive at six o'clock, and he was bringing Blaine. David texted both parties to tell them that those times were good and that dinner would be at a little after six. He made sure to ask Kurt if pizza, subs, and salad would be good for him and Blaine. Receiving an affirmative answer from Kurt (who stressed the 'salad' part of the food options), David made his way downstairs to inform his father that his friends would be arriving for dinner.

"Hey, Dad," David began, "Sean said he'll be here at around four-thirty, and Kurt and Blaine will be here at around six; so I figured that if we get food here by six-fifteen or six-thirty, that'd be good."

"Okay, David," Paul acknowledged. "Is there anything I should know about how I should relate to your friends?"

David gave his dad a puzzled expression and a partial laugh, shaking his head. "C'mon, Dad, you've met Kurt and Sean already. I really don't know Blaine except to see him, so I couldn't say much about him except that he's Kurt's boyfriend."

"Is it okay with Blaine that Kurt and you spend a fair amount of time together?"

David shook his head and rolled his eyes slightly. "Geeze, Dad, just because two gay guys are friends does not mean that either of them has other motives in mind."

Paul nodded humbly. "Yeah, I'm sorry, David. This is still all new to me."

"I know, Dad, and I appreciate all the effort you're making. Truth is, Kurt's been an incredible friend to me, and I'm hoping that we'll be friends for a long time. After everything we've been through, though, I can't imagine he'd have _those_ kinds of feelings for me, you know, other than friendship. Besides, I really don't think I'm his type."

"His type?" Paul questioned.

David shook his head and smiled, looking toward the floor then back up at his dad. "Sit down, Dad." Paul sat down on the couch in the family room and David sat on the edge of the adjacent chair, facing his father. Paul looked blankly at David; David gave a sarcastic half-smile back to Paul, but when David spoke, it was soft and patient. "See, Dad, gay men aren't necessarily interested in something just because it has a penis. They have standards and tastes and likes and dislikes, all exclusive to the individual." Paul looked still puzzled, perhaps awkward. "Okay, Dad, you're straight. I am pretty sure that you don't necessarily fantasize about going to bed with every female you see. Am I right?" Paul smiled slightly at this. "Even when you were my age, Dad, there were probably girls and women that you just didn't find attractive in any way, right?" Paul was nodding and chuckling quietly by now. "See, Dad, Kurt and I, we don't find each other repulsive or anything; we're just not _for_ each other. Kurt and Blaine are great together, and I respect what they have a lot. I might envy that a little because, yeah, I'd like to have a boyfriend and be in that kind of relationship; but there are other things I need to concentrate on right now, and I know it will happen for me someday."

Paul nodded. "Thanks for explaining something that should have been obvious. I'm understanding this more all the time."

"Dad," David spoke sincerely, comfortably. "I am so lucky to have a father that is so open and understanding. Thank you for caring enough to learn about me." Paul looked up, addressing David's eyes directly with a slight-but-sincere smile. "With that, Dad, I'm going back upstairs because Rupert and I were outside tossing around a football, I worked up a sweat, and I should probably duck under the shower and clean myself up a little before my friends arrive."

Sean had already arrived and was waiting for David by the time David had showered and returned from the upstairs. Paul had let Sean in, and the two of them were standing in the kitchen as David walked in.

"Hey, Sean," David greeted. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

"Hey, Dave," Sean answered, smiling pleasantly. "No, not long. Your dad and I were talking about my classes and what I plan on doing after graduation."

"Cool," David replied as if it was a reflex. "Do you want a soda or something, Sean?"

"Sure," Sean voiced, "if you have root beer like last week, that'd be good."

"Yep, we have root beer," David reached into the cupboard for a beer mug. "You want something, Dad?"

"No thanks, David," Paul declined. "I was just going to order the food. I know it's another hour-plus until we'll be eating, but I wanted to get the order in early."

David busied himself putting the mug into the freezer when Sean said, "Hey,you really don't need to go through all that trouble, Dave."

"Nah, no trouble," David countered with a chuckle. "Just trying to be a good host here. Do you wanna take a seat in the gameroom? I'll meet you down there when your mug is sufficiently frosted." David pointed the way to the short set of stairs that led down to the gameroom, and Sean followed David's direction, seating himself on the couch. David joined him after a few minutes with, as promised, a frosted mug of root beer. Sean chuckled and shook his head as David handed it to him.

"You really didn't need to go through all the trouble, Dave."

"No trouble," David gave a crooked smile. "You're my guest. It was no trouble at all." Studying Sean's appearance, David changed the subject. "I see that you're still rockin' the ponytail."

"Yeah," Sean responded, "Gretchen says it looks good on me."

"It does: the way you're built, shape of your face: it works on you," David opined. "I couldn't get away with that, but it's you."

Sean snickered. "Yeah, well Gretchen tends to like nerds, artist-types, and dirtbags. You totally threw her."

"Me?" David was genuinely surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Dave, you're none of those things, and Gretchen thinks you're incredibly cute."

David smiled and chuckled; it was difficult to tell whether his expression was cockiness, disbelief, or both. "I guess she liked my looks. She did enjoy dressing me up that one time."

"Dave, you look awesome in those pictures."

David smirked wider, trying to be modest and trying to avoid blushing at the compliment, finally surrendering to a broad smile and pointing his head downward toward the floor. "Thanks, Sean."

"You're welcome, Dave."

David's face sobered a bit. "Are you still getting knocked around because you're friends with me?"

"No," Sean replied. "Not since Johnno and Randy have been watching out for me. They check up on rest of us too, but I was the one who got the most guff for it."

"Randy too? He's keeping an eye on you?"

"Yeah," Sean nodded. "Actually, Randy took a lot of crap from the other jocks, mostly because he stayed on with the sports. Johnno quit all of his sports outright." Sean paused and thought. "Randy was bummed that you blocked him on Facebook."

David explained, "I had nothing to go on where Randy was concerned at the time I went through all that Facebook stuff." David shot a serious expression at Sean.

"I think Randy took some heat also because he's just a regular-kinda-guy," Sean added, "but when Johnno gets that serious face like he wants to kick some ass, he's downright chilling."

David laughed. "It's true. Johnno has one wicked gameface."

"So do you, Dave," Sean said, smiling.

David's face straightened again. "Yeah, I think that's all the people at McKinley ever saw of me."

"Really?' Sean questioned. "They didn't ever see smiley, happy Dave?"

David frowned and shook his head. "Nah. No smiley Dave at McKinley."

"I can't even imagine that, Dave. That's so not you."

"Looking back on it," David spoke, "I think I was sick back then, or mentally poisoned."

"Well, I would think that something was definitely wrong with you if you were suddenly unfriendly," Sean observed. "I mean, even when you were, like, not talking to us much, you were still generally polite and friendly."

"Uh...buh," David verbally stumbled, "Can we change the subject, maybe?"

"Yeah, sorry, Dave," Sean genuinely did not want to make David uncomfortable. "Oh, Johnno and Gretchen are actually dating now."

This brought a smile to David's face. "That's great. I was trying to help get that going back in October and November."

"Well, you did kinda bring them together, even if it wasn't the way you'd have planned," Sean mentioned.

"How so?" David looked perplexed.

"Well, when everything went bad for you, that's when Johnno started watching out for us and sitting with us at lunch. One thing just led to another with him and Gretchen. Randy sits with us also, actually."

David gave a futile laugh and smiled slightly, shaking his head. Both boys were silent for a moment until David began talking again.

"Mr. Williams called me today. We talked about my oral history project."

"How's that coming?" Sean asked.

"Actually, I'm kinda psyched and into it since I changed my topic," David explained. "I'm going to interview members of the local gay community and talk about their life in a small American city."

"That sounds pretty cool," Sean said, uncertain expression on his face. "Do you think you'll get enough people to interview to fill out the project?"

"I already interviewed Kurt last night. I plan on interviewing his boyfriend Blaine tonight. I made a few contacts online. If I extend the interviews to family members, there's my dad and Kurt's family I could interview also."

Sean became quiet and apprehensive for a period, finally saying, "Um, Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you...um...tell anyone about...me? You know, like, what I sorta told you without actually telling you last week?"

"No," David said precisely.

"Not Kurt or your dad?"

"Absolutely not, Sean. Nobody. You said that to me in a moment of, I assume, confidence. I won't betray that confidence. Even if you told me that it was okay, I still wouldn't tell anyone."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, then Sean asked, "Did anyone know about you, you know, before all that went down?"

"Kurt knew for over a year. He told his boyfriend, but that was as far as it went, I think. Honestly, with as much as I put Kurt through, he'd have been justified to tell anyone and everyone. For the last few months, I was in the process of coming out at my own speed. Obviously, it got out-of-control for me."

Sean puzzled. "If Kurt had a boyfriend, why were you on a Valentine's Day date with him? I mean, that's how the story went, and that's what Kurt told me."

David exhaled loudly. "I wasn't sure if they were still together; Kurt and Blaine, that is. I kinda saw something that led me to believe that they were done, but they weren't. Plus, Kurt understood what I was going through and tried to help me despite the fact that I made his life miserable. He's good-natured that way; it made me think there was more there than there was."

"You've never been anything but a great guy to me, Dave."

"Thanks, I appreciate hearing that, but this conversation has gotten too heavy," David said, sounding put-upon, "Let's talk about school." David nodded in the direction of the game consol. "Or do you wanna play some games or something?"

Sean smiled. "We could probably do both, and you'd kick my ass because I'm pretty lousy at that kinda stuff."

"Really?" David asked incredulous. "Sean who hosts games with his friends on the weekends is lousy at video games?"

"Yeah, well," Sean explained, "I can play the video games, but I'm not very good; I'm more a board-game, role-playing game kinda guy."

David smirked and shook his head. "Well, I'm out of practice, and it won't be long until Kurt and Blaine get here. Less than an hour, probably. We can just talk until then."

Less than twenty minutes had passed before Kurt's Navigator pulled into David's driveway bringing Kurt and Blaine to David's house at least fifteen minutes early. As David heard Kurt's car approach, he sprung from his seat to get the door; Sean followed.

"Hey guys! C'mon in. Kurt, Blaine, I assume, though we've never been formally introduced." David smiled and stretched his arm, welcoming Kurt and Blaine into his house.

Blaine smiled politely, extending his right hand to David. "Yes, nice to meet you properly, Dave." David took Blaine's hand and gave a firm, friendly shake.

"Blaine, this is Sean; Sean, Blaine." David continued. "Kurt and Sean already met last week."

The four of them said greetings to each other as David pointed Kurt, Blaine, and Sean back toward the direction of the gameroom to make themselves comfortable until dinner arrived. Meanwhile, David returned to the kitchen to tell his father that his friends had arrived.

"How have you been, Sean?" Kurt asked, seating himself on the edge of a chair and leaning in the direction of the couch while Blaine appeared somewhat ill-at-ease and nervous sitting on the armrest of the chair on which Kurt had seated himself.

"I've been about the same as I was last week, Kurt," Sean smiled through his answer to Kurt's question. "Not much changed in my one week since we met the first time."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "About the same here," he offered. "How's David doing this afternoon?"

Sean thought for a moment before answering. "He seems like he was doing well, but sometimes it difficult to avoid the heavy conversational topics with him. Maybe with the four of us here, it'll get lighter."

"Hey, what does everyone want to drink?" David asked, entering the gameroom. "We have root beer, iced tea, cola, some orange soda. I can make coffee if you like also."

Sean requested a refill on his root beer; Blaine said that he'd like a glass of iced tea. Kurt asked, "Do you have any diet soda?"

David smiled with a baffled expression that seemed to be transmitting ' _you have got to be kidding me, right?_ ' "Kurt, I don't think we have any diet soda, but I'll check. Is anything diet okay, or does it need to be, like, a specific _type_ of diet soda?"

"Cola if you have it," Kurt answered, oblivious to David's incomprehension of the request; the absurdity of the situation was not lost on Sean and Blaine, however. David retreated upstairs to tend to their beverage requests.

"Kurt," Sean began, " _diet soda_?"

Blaine chimed in. "It's just the way Kurt operates. I don't question it any longer."

Kurt looked at Sean then Blaine, wide-eyed. _"What?"_

"Forget it," Sean said, then changed the subject. "So, you two are 'together', Dave tells me."

Kurt and Blaine both smiled at the comment, and Blaine seemed to relax somewhat from his earlier nervous demeanor. Kurt nodded and answered. "Yes, that's true. It's a little over a year since we've been 'official'." Blaine reached over and placed his hand gently on Kurt's shoulder as if to punctuate Kurt's statement.

"Cool," Sean said, looking somewhat nervous and subtly away from the couple.

"Actually," Blaine spoke, "Karofsk...er... _Dave_ wants to interview me for his history project."

Sean snickered. "Are you one of the guys who calls him 'Karofsky'?"

Kurt interjected, "Honestly, that's what everyone called him at McKinley."

"Actually," Sean commented, "I have heard him say that most people at McKinley didn't realize he even had a first name." Kurt and Blaine both chuckled at the comment. Sean continued. "The guys on the football team at Thurston called him 'Karofsky' also; I never heard any of those guys call him anything other than that."

The three boys in the gameroom heard the doorbell ring upstairs and the sounds of the door being opened. David called down to them. "The food's here. C'mon up guys."

Sean, Kurt, and Blaine met David at the top of the stairs, and he led them into the kitchen where the food had been unwrapped and was set across the center of the Kitchen table: two large pizzas, three Italian subs cut into halves, a dozen garlic chicken wings, and a large family-sized container of salad.

"Hey, Kurt," David said quietly as he handed a glass of soda over to Kurt as he walked toward the table. "We did have diet cola." Kurt gave David a surprised smile and David returned a cocky grin back to Kurt.

Paul spoke, "Okay gentlemen, have a seat and help yourselves." He drew his attention to Blaine. "We haven't been introduced yet."

Blaine smiled politely as David and Kurt both began introducing Blaine to Paul at the same time, stopping and starting multiple times, as each assumed the other would take over. This caused everyone in the room to laugh at the same time after four failed attempts. Finally, Blaine smiled and held out his right hand in the direction of Paul and introduced himself, laughter largely, but not completely, under control. "I'm Blaine, and you must be Dave's dad."

"Nice to meet you Blaine," Paul smiled a big, friendly smile.

"Nice to meet you."

Sean was already seated and halfway into a slice of pizza. "Not wasting any time, are we, Sean?" Kurt voiced joking disapproval.

Sean gave an expression of mild embarrassment; Paul countered, "We're all men here; we can bend the etiquette rules a little, I think." Kurt giggled slight embarrassment himself. "The other day," Paul continued, "David convinced me to have cold, leftover pizza for breakfast."

"Eew," Kurt said at a low volume followed by another giggle as he filled his plate with salad. "Such men you are."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it, Kurt," David said through a smile at Kurt from across the table.

Paul added, "It was a liberating experience after all of these years of polite dining decorum."

Kurt gave Paul a slightly accusing grin. "You and my dad would get along smashingly."

"Yeah, I like your dad," Paul exclaimed. "Maybe we should invite him next time we do this."

"Uh, ever since the heart attack, I'm pretty strict about what my dad eats," Kurt stated, causing David to give his dad an expression of slight concern and a raised eyebrow. When confronted with the silence, Kurt added, "But I'm sure eating like this every once-in-a-while is okay."

"Everything's really good," Blaine commented politely, perhaps hoping to lighten the mood; Sean made a noise of agreement, mouth full of a pizza.

"This salad is _incredible_ ," Kurt observed. "It's so full of stuff, it's like a meal by itself."

"Honestly, guys, the Italian sub is my dad's and my favorite thing," David said. "I recommend that you all grab some of that before it's gone."

At the suggestion, Blaine and Sean grabbed one piece each of the sub.

"So, I don't know much about any of you," Paul began. "I know a little about Sean and a little about Kurt."

"What would you like to know?" Kurt asked.

"Oh," Paul continued, "whatever you'd like to tell."

"Well, Blaine and I are both in the McKinley High Show Choir, and we're preparing for and looking forward to our National competition in Chicago," Kurt offered. "That'll be in May, just before I graduate."

"Are you all graduating this year?" Paul asked.

"I'm only a junior," Blaine said. "I think it'll be kinda hard for me. A lot of my friends are seniors, and they won't be around next year."

"Oh, Blaine, you have friends in your own class," Kurt corrected, "and you'll be the number-one-guy on the show-choir next year."

Blaine smiled at that. "Yeah, all that's true. I am going to miss so many of the people, though."

Paul nodded sympathetically. "So, David tells me that you two are an item," Paul says with his gaze directed at Kurt and Blaine. "How did you meet?"

The awkwardness of this question was pronounced for David and Kurt, David's antagonistic behavior being the reason why Kurt left McKinley to study at Dalton where he met Blaine. Luckily, Blaine took the initiative, whether conscientious or clueless, to answer Paul's query.

"Kurt and I were both going to Dalton Academy last year where we met. Simple as that."

Kurt stewed in reservations: the parts that Blaine omitted either by design or negligence or innocence had something to do with Blaine being the only available gay male in Kurt's age group and the agonizingly long period of time it seemed to take for Blaine to even notice Kurt's pining availability. Oh, there was also the Valentine's Day serenade for Blaine's crush which worked well for neither Blaine nor Kurt. Even in hindsight, this stung Kurt a bit: being reduced to the status of a Plan B or possibly a Plan C. Unlike Blaine's assessment, there really wasn't anything simple about it.

David's thoughts about how he might have answered that question were no less simple: _I terrorized this guy to the point that he fled in fear from McKinley to the gay-friendly halls of Dalton and the open arms of this guy with whom he's awesome. Well, at least something good came out of it._

"You two do seem really good together," Sean spoke referring to Kurt and Blaine, grounding the drifting minds of David and Kurt.

Kurt looked to his right to see Blaine smiling adoringly at him. His response was to smile consciously-but-sweetly back in Blaine's direction. David smiled just looking at the two of them: they did seem great together. But somehow less great than the pictures on Kurt's cell phone seemed to reveal the previous evening.

"Any plans for after graduation for you Sean?" Paul asked, keeping the conversation going. "Kurt?"

Sean answered. "I have acceptance letters from a number of schools, but I'm waiting for a few more. I'll be going into a tech field, I'm sure."

"Pretty-much the same boat as me," David contributed, "but I'll be either a math major or a physics major."

"Do you know where you'll be going to school, Sean?" Paul asked.

"Haven't exactly decided yet, but I received a few acceptance letters," Sean replied.

"Same here," David added. "I really would like to go to Case in Cleveland or Carmichael Lemon U in Pittsburgh."

"CLU is an excellent school," Sean commented. "That's where they built that robot that beat the people on that game show."

"Yeah, I haven't heard back from them yet, but there's still time."

"What about you, Kurt?" Paul directed.

"Ever since our show choir went to New York for our National competition last year, I decided that I need to be there," Kurt began. "I want to get into NYADA. I need to be performing, singing, dancing: it's my passion."

Paul nodded and smiled. "Any ideas for you, Blaine?"

"Well, I have a year to think about it," Blaine began. "Like Kurt, my passion is performing. I want to see how Kurt feels once he's been in New York for a while. I might want to join him there. Of course, my brother who is in the 'business' might have a suggestion that maybe I'd do better out on the other coast."

Kurt appeared troubled by the last part of the comment.

Blaine, sensing this, restated, "Of course, it's still a year away, and anything can happen between now and then."

David quietly drew Kurt's attention. "You didn't have any of the sub, Kurt?"

"No, I wasn't feeling so inclined," Kurt said back to David.

"Aw, c'mon. This is _awesome_. There's just that one piece left." David took the remaining half-hoagie onto his plate and cut it in half, offering Kurt one of the pieces. "Just try this."

"I don't think so," Kurt declined.

"He's right, Kurt," Blaine chimed in.

"That sandwich is seriously incredible," Sean contributed.

"This little piece is not going to kill you or throw your delicate metabolism into a tailspin." David's tone was friendly with a hint of challenge or even cockiness.

Kurt shot David an expression that was somehow accusing and accommodating at the same time. With a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, accepting the challenge, Kurt accepted the piece of sandwich and took a bite out of it. He ate it without saying anything, eyes detached and aloof. His expression gave no clues to his opinions on the food either. Finally, he looked around the room at the faces around him occupied with idle chatter, his gaze finally landing on the piece of sandwich which remained on David's plate. He spoke to David quietly. "Um, David, are you going to eat that?"

David smiled crookedly but wide and genuine. He replied just as quietly, like he didn't want to betray Kurt's surrender to the sandwich. "It's all yours, Kurt."

The exchange seemed to go unnoticed by the others at the table as the diners finished eating and Paul stood, beginning to collect empty plates from the table. David stood also, helping his father clear the table by consolidating the leftovers from the two pizzas into one box then into the refrigerator. "Breakfast for later in the week," David said to Paul with a devious grin on his face; Paul smiled back.

"David, I can clean this up myself," Paul began. "Why don't you just spend some time with your friends?"

David shrugged. "Alright, Dad. I'll catch up to you later then." David got closer to his father's ear and spoke in a hushed tone. "Thanks, Dad. This was awesome."

Paul smirked and commented back at a similarly hushed level. "Awesome or awkward?"

"A little awkward, but way awesome, Dad. I'll get my friends out of your way."

David turned to his friends who were chattering among themselves. "Hey, guys, let's head down to the gameroom for a few so we can get out of my dad's way. He insists on cleaning this up himself."

"Hey, thanks for the great dinner, Mr. Karofsky!" Sean voiced loudly as he stood up. Kurt and Blaine chimed in like comments as the four boys descended into the gameroom. Kurt and Blaine sat on a far side of the couch, next to each other, Kurt closest to the armrest. Sean sat at the opposite side of the couch while David sat on the edge of the chair facing the couch.

"So, David," Kurt began, "How did all of your tests go today?"

"I think I did well on all of them," David answered, "but it did exhaust my mind for a while."

"How many tests did you take today?" Blaine asked.

"I had to make up eight tests which I missed since I've not been in school," David replied. "I already talked to Mr. Williams who told me that I got an A on the History test."

"That's a lot of tests for one day," Blaine said after a near-gasp.

David shrugged. "Yeah, but figure that I have absolutely nothing to do right now but study. There'd be almost no excuse for me not to know this stuff backward and forward. I've kinda forced myself into disciplined study habits."

"How long did it take you to take all of those tests?" Kurt asked.

"It was about five hours." David answered, thinking as he spoke.. "An average of thirty-seven-and-a-half minutes per."

Blaine started with a smile. "That's impressive. I mean, that you did that math in your head. But the fact that you did all those tests in that time is impressive also." Blaine verbally stumbled a bit, still smiling. "I'll be quiet now."

"I think you and me are in the presence of math wizards here, Blaine," Kurt opined.

David smiled, but it was polite, not conceited. "Well, less than that, actually. My tutor and I took a break and tossed a football around in back for a few. I've been dying to do something like that for weeks."

"How old is your tutor?" Sean asked while playing with his cell phone.

"Rupert's maybe in his mid-twenties," David answered. "He wasn't big on the football idea, but he was a good sport about it. I thanked him for humoring me." David snickered at the last. "I've been lifting in the mornings, but nothing beats actually getting outside and moving around. I plan on getting out early and running in the morning when the weather becomes a little more predictable"

"We just gotta get you out to do something fun sometime, Dave," Sean remarked. "Get you re-connected with your friends and have a good time."

"I agree, Sean," Kurt nodded.

"Yeah, well, maybe after I get a good portion of this school stuff under control and my History project rolling, I'll be up for that," David answered. "Speaking of, Blaine, would you let me interview you for my project now?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Blaine responded.

"Then, if Sean and Kurt will excuse us," David began, "Blaine, follow me upstairs, and I'll interview you." Blaine and David stood and began walking toward the stairs. Kurt shot a smile at Blaine; Blaine returned the expression. Sean waved, not looking away from his phone.

"David seems to be in very good spirits today," Kurt commented to Sean once they were alone.

Sean looked away from his phone, smiling slightly. "Yeah,definitely. I think he likes to see us and hang with people his own age. He said that he really doesn't know Blaine much."

"That's true," Kurt replied. "They were never actually introduced before today."

"But they've seen each other and, like, been in the same room together?"

"Yes, and I don't think it's my place to recount that when David's not here to tell his side of the story," Kurt explained.

"Well, it seems like they're getting along okay right now," Sean commented.

"David has changed a lot in a year. Blaine is aware of that, and he knows that David and I are friends, which we weren't always."

"Yeah, you've told me a little bit and Dave's told me a little bit and I can piece enough together," Sean summarized. "Dave's been a good friend. He's been through a bad time, and all of the people at school who were his friends, well, we want to stand by him, we want to see him happy."

Kurt nodded. "I want to see him happy also. What happened between him and me in the past means nothing right now. I know it wasn't him. I saw him become a better person over time." Kurt was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "We should arrange something to get him back together with all of the people who want to see him."

Sean smiled and nodded. "I agree. People ask me about him every day. For all of the scumbags who were bashing him there are easily just as many people who are glad he's alive and want to see him."

"Well, you and I can maybe get our heads together on that when he's more comfortable with the idea then. There are a bunch of people at McKinley who want to see David also."

 

* * *

 

"You have a really awesome bedroom, Dave," Blaine commented, smiling and taking in the visual data.

"Thanks," Dave acknowledged, also smiling. "A few people have said that. I think it's that it's pretty spacious. Feel free to look around and find a seat; make yourself comfortable."

After letting his eyes superficially explore David's bedroom, Blaine settled into the chair near the far corner of the bedroom while David picked up the digital recorder and checked to make sure it was charged. "Ready to go when you are, Blaine," David signalled verbally.

"I'm ready if you are," Blaine replied.

David picked up the notebook in which he'd written his questions, moved to the corner of the room where Blaine was seated and sat on the edge of the bed. Once satisfied that any noise was minimal, he set the recorder on the bedside table and looked at Blaine.

"Before we get started, I want to say a few things," David began; Blaine nodded silently. "First off, I appreciate you agreeing to be interviewed for my project. The more interviews and different stories I get, the better my finished project will potentially be. Second, I know I gave you and Kurt a hard time in the past, but that's over. There really aren't words to communicate the way I feel about that other than that I'm sorry." David appeared genuinely humble as he spoke these words.

"David, Kurt and I talked about this, and we know that, no matter how difficult it was for him and me, it had to have been harder for you," Blaine spoke, a serious, understanding tone. "Kurt and I understood ourselves early-on. You fought with this for years before you even let yourself accept who you are. We're here for you because we understand that."

David was choked by Blaine's words. His eyes were tearing, but he held back, finally composing himself. "I also wanted to say that Kurt's become this amazing friend despite what has happened between him and me in the past. I figured that, if Kurt's my friend, I should also be at least civil with his boyfriend."

Blaine caught the humor in David's delivery and smiled widely. "Aw, c'mon, Dave, you make it sound like I'm barely tolerating you and acting out of service to Kurt or something."

"Well, aren't you?" David said affecting an exaggerated expression of seriousness.

Blaine laughed in response to David's expression. "I'm gonna smack you if you keep this up."

"I think you owe me a few, so maybe I'll keep being silly, you'll smack me around a little, and we'll be closer to even." David kept a straight expression until Blaine's laughter finally broke him down and he laughed as well.

"Okay, time to be serious, I guess," David finally said after he and Blaine had laughed for a few solid minutes. "Before we dive into the interview, I do want to say one more thing. You and Kurt are great together. Seeing couples like yours, couples that work: that has me very-much looking forward to being in that kind of relationship someday."

Blaine smiled thoughtfully, remained silent for a while, and sounded genuinely moved when he finally spoke. "Thank you, Dave. I was trying to come up with something profound to say, but I think you just nailed me with that compliment."

"It's all true, though."

David turned his attention to his notebook and the recording device, reciting to Blaine the same instructions he gave to Kurt on the previous evening. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kurt and Sean had been chatting for about forty minutes when David and Blaine returned from upstairs. Both David and Blaine appeared relaxed and friendly as they seated themselves where they were when they left: Blaine next to Kurt on the couch and David on the large chair, this time sitting himself against the chair back, fully seated.

"Hopefully, you two weren't bored while I was interviewing Blaine," David said as he settled against the back of the chair, appearing relaxed.

"Nah," Sean began, "we were talking up a storm down here."

"That's true", Kurt smiled. "I was telling him about all of my friends at McKinley, and he was telling me about somebody named Howie getting drunk."

David laughed heartily. "Howie, man! Keep him away from the liquor! Hey, Sean, how's Howie been doing?"

"He's doing great," Sean commented. "I understand that a lot can change in a couple of months, but he's a shoo-in for Valedictorian right now."

"That's awesome, and I am not surprised at all," David said smiling and nodding.

"How'd the interview go?" Kurt asked as Blaine, sitting next to him, took Kurt's hand into his.

David looked at Blaine who looked back at David and the two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. "I thought it went great," David finally said.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "He was really good with his questions, and he was really good at getting me relaxed before we started. Had me laughing my butt off."

"Ooh, don't make him laugh _that_ hard!" Kurt scolded flirtatiously.

"Dave has an amazing sense of humor," Sean interjected. "It's unique, and it can be devastating."

"All I said was that Blaine should smack me around a little for being such a jackass to you guys in the past, and he wouldn't stop laughing," David recounted.

"It was your expression, dammit, I couldn't _not_ laugh," Blaine defended.

"Be careful what you ask for, David," Kurt warned, jokingly, "Blaine boxes."

This grabbed David's attention. "You _box_ , Blaine?"

Blaine smiled modestly, still holding Kurt's hand gently, affectionately. "Yeah, I took up boxing a couple of years ago. I figured that, if I'm going to live in socially-backward Ohio, I need to be able to defend myself."

David nodded. "You actually have, like, boxing matches with other people?"

"No, just working with trainers, using the bags, and sparring with partners so far," Blaine answered. "The technique of moving also ties in with my dancing, the same way football players sometimes study ballet nominally. I don't know if I could get into the actual matches, and that's really not the reason why I took it up anyway."

David nodded.

"Have you ever boxed, David?" Kurt asked.

"No, I play some heavily-physical sports with a fair amount of player-on-player contact, but never anything as overt in that respect as boxing aside from goofing off with my friends sometimes," David answered.

Blaine stood up and walked over to David. "Stand up, Dave. I'll show you some basic stuff."

David stood up nervously. "Aw, man, you're gonna kick my ass. I've never done this before, and you're way faster than me, I'm sure."

Blaine smiled shyly. "Dave, you are twice the size of me. Even if I wanted to kick your ass, I don't think I could. Besides, you said I owed you a few smacks."

David shook his head and smiled. "Okay, you got me there. What do you want me to do?"

"Are you left-handed or right-handed, Dave?" Blaine stood next to David as he raised his arms and observed David doing the same.

"Right."

"Okay, same here. You know the basic form, right? Left hand up and out front to block, right hand close in so it's ready to spring when you want to hit." Blaine raised his fists, still standing next to David; David copied the form, studying the position of Blaine's hands in relation to his face. Blaine moved around to face David. "They say eye-contact is important also, so look right at my eyes when your hands are in that position." Blaine and David stood for a few moments, Blaine studying David's expression and David not really knowing what he should be doing. "That's good, Dave, really good. Now I'm just going to stand, no legwork because that's a whole different thing, and I'm going to throw a few light punches."

"Don't hit me, dude, you're gonna kick my ass," David said mock-nervously, just above a whisper, his expression unchanged, causing Blaine to laugh and lose his focus entirely.

"Don't _do_ that! Stop it, you're making me laugh."

At this point David was grinning, on the edge of laughter. "I'm sorry, man. It's just that it's easy to crack you up, and I'm having trouble resisting that. I'll get serious this time."

Blaine sobered his expression with some difficulty and faced David again. "Okay, like I said before, I'm going to throw some light punches. Block them as well as you can. Throw some light ones back, but make sure they're light, okay?" David nodded, eyes fixed on Blaine's, and Blaine moved his fists slightly while he spoke. "You want to keep eye contact, but you need to train your eyes to see where the other guy's hands are while you do that." Blaine struck out with a few quick taps which David successfully blocked. David threw a few back at Blaine which were quick enough to surprise him though they were handily deflected as well. This went on for a minute or slightly longer. Blaine then threw what would have been a blow to the area just below David's ribcage, a punch which David did not see coming. The two stopped when Blaine's fist made light contact. "That would have probably hurt and set you back had this been for real."

David looked down to see the area where the punch would have landed. "Yeah, I see that." He then turned and looked toward the couch. "Check that out, Blaine."

Blaine turned to see Kurt, bug-eyed and blushing a bright strawberry-red color with his hands folded in his lap, and Sean with his lower jaw slightly slack and head cocked curiously. All four eyes were fixed on Blaine and David.

Kurt spoke. "I never approved of boxing. It's _barbaric_." That last word was spat out with a peculiar inflection. There was a pause and Blaine moved to return to his seat next to Kurt. David felt a huge grin and possibly a laugh coming on. "Just stop it!" Kurt said finally. David grinned back at them as he returned to his seat in the chair. Blaine seemed conspicuously clueless to the subtext though David read it like a neon sign. A bright red neon sign.

Sean stood up, adjusting his jeans under his lengthy shirt tails. "Where is there a bathroom I can hit?"

David smirked and pointed while he answered, "Just through that door to the left of the stairs." Sean was walking slightly hunched toward the direction in which David pointed.

Kurt was still bright red, facing forward with his eyes rolled to the extreme left of his field of vision, trained on Blaine who was sitting next to him and smiling warmly as he reached for Kurt's hand which would not remove itself from its position on Kurt's lap. Blaine eventually surrendered the battle for Kurt's hand, and the red drained from Kurt's alabaster-complexion. David drank in this visual and chuckled to himself.

Sean returned from the bathroom announcing, "It's getting late, and I think I'm outta here."

Kurt and Blaine stood up also. "We should probably be calling it a night also," Kurt spoke.

"Cool," David spoke as he stood to see them up the stairs to the door. "Thanks, guys, for coming over. We should do stuff like this regularly."

Paul met the group of them in the entryway. "Everybody leaving?"

"Thanks for dinner, Mr. Karofsky," Blaine said while shaking the man's hand.

"Well, thank you for coming. It was nice meeting all of you."

"Later Dave, Mr. Karofsky; and thanks for the awesome dinner," Sean said while waving, already out the front door and halfway to his car.

"Yes, thank you for having us," Kurt directed at both Paul and David.

"Thanks for coming, guys," David voiced slightly louder than the rest. "Great seeing you all, and travel safely."

When both cars had left their driveway, David shut and locked the front door.

"Your friends seem like good guys," Paul said as David turned around to face him.

David smiled. "Well, that's just a few of them. I have more. You'll meet some of them eventually, I'm sure." David approached his dad closer. "Thanks for letting me have them all over here. I kinda needed that."

Paul nodded. "I kinda felt that you did."

 

* * *

  

"Karofsky is _hilarious_." Blaine said from the passenger seat of Kurt's Navigator once they pulled out onto the road. "You were totally right about him being way smarter than I'd have thought."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, if markedly less enthusiastic than Blaine, "It was a nice evening all-around."

"Well, _I_ had a good time," Blaine agreed. "It's kinda nice to have a gay friend who doesn't have some kind of clandestine agenda."

"That's true," Kurt commented.

"Sean seems like a nice guy, and Karofsky's dad seems like he's almost as cool as your dad, Kurt."

" _Almost_ ," Kurt underscored, smiling at Blaine's comment. "How was the interview?"

"It was really good, I thought. He wanted me to answer his questions as if I was telling a story like the questions weren't being asked."

"He said the same to me," Kurt observed. "I think he's planning to do something interesting with the audio when he's finished with the interviews. He said something about using editing software at the Community College."

"Well," Blaine added, "it wouldn't surprise me if he's a lot more creative than I gave him credit for being also."

The text alert on Kurt's phone sounded just as Kurt was about to agree modestly. He reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and handed it across the seat to Blaine. "Could you see who that is, Blaine?"

Blaine unlocked the phone and checked the text message. "It's from Karofsky. He says that he meant to mention the release forms we'll need to fill out for our interviews. It's a formality, and we can specify anonymity if we like."

"He mentioned that to me last night also."

Blaine continued, "He says that he wants us to hear our interviews and the final audio assembly before we agree, just to be sure nothing is represented out of context."

"He didn't mention that to me last night, but it's good to know," Kurt commented.

Kurt and Blaine sat silent for a few minutes as Kurt drove closer to Blaine's house. Blaine spoke finally. "It's still kinda early, not even nine o'clock yet."

"It will be after nine by the time we get to your place," Kurt reminded.

"Yeah," Blaine exhaled. "Y'know, Karofsky apologized to me for his behavior toward the both of us. He said some other really nice things also. I guess I didn't expect that out of him either." Kurt remained silent. Blaine added, "Karofsky said that, if you were his friend, he should try to be at least civil with me."

"Civil?" Kurt finally spoke, incredulous. "Really? _Civil_?"

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, that's the point where I started laughing. I mean, I think it was a sincere statement, but the choice of words was so odd that it was funny."

Kurt began to giggle and finally erupted into a full laugh. Even in his physical absence, David was disarming.

 

* * *

 

Kurt was in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to be comfortable. He'd dropped Blaine off at his house over an hour ago, texted David back about the release forms, went through the course of David's text messages of thanks which had become something of a regular event, texted David back in kind, thanking him and his father for a nice evening with friends, and had his nightly telephone chat with Blaine. Something was still preventing Kurt from feeling comfortable.

He didn't think it was David. David was just being himself, or at least the David Kurt had known for the past few weeks. Maybe it was the way Blaine seemed so impressed with David. The strange, disconcerting feeling hadn't occurred to Kurt until after Blaine and David had returned from the interview session, and, even at that, was not pronounced until the two play-boxed in front of him. And the sensation it had given Kurt at the time was unsettling and returning as Kurt thought about it. Was Kurt jealous of the way Blaine seemed to be relating to David? He'd seen Blaine involved in physical activities with other guys before without a problem, but all of those other guys were straight. David is gay. The strangest part was that he trusted David with Blaine more than he trusted Blaine with David; and the even more difficult question to answer dealt with him possibly not wanting to share David, even in friendship, with Blaine.

Kurt had a more immediate issue, a physical one, as he could not shake the image of Blaine and David sparring from his mind as he tried to relax himself into sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 4,100

**Chapter 20**

 

**David at Thurston, Part 10**

The pictures returned by the image search made Dave cringe. A minute ago he entered 'bear cub' into the search field and was answered by photos of the infant offspring of actual bears, as in grizzlies, kodiaks, and polars. For his second attempt, he added a word to narrow his search results: ' _gay_ bear cub' resulted in images which he did not consider flattering. Among the hundreds of pictures, there were a few handsome, rugged-looking men of thick stature; a greater number of them were what Dave might regard as 'sloppy' and 'overweight'; some were downright obese. Further disquieting to Dave's self-image was the fact that the majority of the men in these images, no, the _overwhelming_ majority of the men in these images were in some state of undress. And sometimes in large groups. And in public. Almost all of them had very conspicuous facial hair. Sometimes this flattered their appearance, but at other times it made them appear unkempt. And even the smiling ones looked somewhat less-than-friendly and threatening. The guys at Scandals had tagged Dave as a cub. Is this _really_ what he looked like? Okay, Dave knew that he was a big guy himself. He knew that he'd never be one of those skinny, snaky-looking guys that looks great in slick, fashionable clothing. He also knew that he'd never have one of those sleek, cut runners' bodies that looks so great in tight, shiny dress-shirts and butt-hugging jeans. But was he really doomed to this: walking around in public, half-naked and ample, desperately in need a shave? If Dave was unlikely to show skin publicly beyond that which a short-sleeved polo shirt revealed, these photos made him want to cover as much as he could within the reasonable confines of polite-society expectations.

The results of the image search for 'babs johnson' at least made Dave laugh, even if it was an uncertain, creeped-out laugh. He had to admit that Ricky's Halloween costume was dead-on (the five-o'clock-shadow excepted). And then it dawned on Dave that he'd never recognize Ricky having only seen him in his Halloween getup.

"Goin' out to meet some friends." Dave announced to his parents.

"Getting kinda late, David," Paul commented. "It's a school night."

"I won't be out too late, Dad."

"Are you going to see that Gretchen?" his mother asked.

"Uh, no, mom."

With that, Dave descended the stairs to the basement and exited the house through the back door. The ride to Scandals was typical, and he thought that perhaps the weeknight crowd might be somewhat calmer than the weekend crowds he'd seen. As he drove, the presence of the layers of clothing he wore became apparent: undershirt, long-sleeved T-shirt, flannel shirt buttoned from the second button to the bottom and worn untucked, fleece jacket, jeans, hiking boots, and baseball cap worn with the brim as low as his head would permit, hiding as much of his face as it would afford. If he wasn't conscious about how self-conscious he had become about himself personally, he was very conscious of the fact that he was sweating beneath all of those layers; sweating so much that he needed to turn on his defroster to defog the windshield despite it being a dry, moderate evening in early November.

Certainly, this wasn't the best choice of nights to go to Scandals. It was, as his father pointed out, a school night. Dave wasn't even sure why he wanted to go to there tonight except that, despite the unease which sometimes manifested itself when he was there, he felt a sense of belonging with the people he met; and he wasn't feeling as though he was interacting terribly well with any of the other people in his life at the present time.

His mother's continued misunderstanding that Gretchen was his girlfriend made him intentionally distance himself from Gretchen. This hurt Dave. Gretchen was someone with whom he felt an incredible sense of ease: he could be himself completely when he was with her. He didn't know how she would feel about him if she knew that he was gay, but he'd hoped that it wouldn't change their friendship. The uncertainty, though, pained him. He came to the conclusion that separating himself from Gretchen and her friends, though painful it might be, would be easier being disowned by people he genuinely appreciated should his sexual orientation be made known to them: he'd rather walk away from the situation than be hurt. Of course, Dave couldn't know how his friends would react, but his fear prevented the chance of him taking that risk.

Since the beginning of basketball season and the incident at Carl's Halloween party, Dave hadn't been meeting Johnno and Randy after school to use the weight room. Aside from how great he felt when he played football with the team, Dave never felt a close connection to any of the other boys on the team excepting Johnno and Randy. Strangely, Nick always seemed to want Dave to be one of his crowd, but the behavior of Nick and his friends wasn't something Dave could fake. Dave had been profoundly altered between the middle of his junior year at McKinley and the beginning of his time at Thurston: hiding part of himself from his friends and his family was difficult but not impossible; pretending to enjoy the obnoxious behavior that people like Nick expected from him was out of the question.

As Dave entered the bar, the man at the door waved him inward, not needing to see his ID this time. He was becoming a recognized, familiar presence. Dave took his seat at the far end of the bar as he had the previous times in which he visited. He ordered the beer special as always and craned his head around from time-to-time to see if anyone he recognized was in the area. No one was appearing familiar. Though the bar was not unoccupied, there were certainly less people than there were on the weekend nights when he'd been there.

He noticed that the music was more low-key than it had been, and there were very few people on the dancefloor at that moment. One rather tall, stocky fellow with several day's growth of beard wearing jeans, engineer boots, and a worn plaid flannel unbuttoned over a too-tight-too-short printed T-shirt was jumping around the dancefloor, acting almost monkey-like to the amusement of his friends who stood just off the side of the dancefloor. The large, scruffy man was making loud monkey-like noises as well, causing very obvious visible annoyance to the few other people on the dancefloor. The man began spinning around crazily, finally flinging himself toward the bar and somehow skillfully seating himself several stools away from Dave. His friends on the far side of the dancefloor clapped and cheered his display of chaotic dancefloor acrobatics.

"Whoop!" Big scruffy man let out a loud yell and settled, back against the bar, slightly winded. "Did everyone here forget how to have _fun_?" The man turned to his right to see Dave gaze in his direction, timidly smiling. "Cap'n Dave?" Scruffy man boomed matter-of-factly into Dave's bemused face.

Dave's smile broadened into a laugh. "You remember me? I guess we met Saturday night?"

Scruffy man raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, stretched over a couple of barstools pulling himself that much closer to Dave, and nodded. "Of _course_ I remember you, you're _fucking adorable_!" he yelled causing Dave to jump in his seat and giggle. Scruffy's voice lowered in volume. "I looked a little different that night. I kissed you on the forehead. The look on your face was priceless."

Dave blushed and looked down at his beer for a moment, then turned back to the large man: "Ricky?"

Ricky composed himself and became absolutely un-obnoxious before saying in a perfectly conversational tone of voice, "Yeah, it's me."

Excepting his height and mountainous appearance, Ricky was an average-but-pleasant-looking guy out-of-costume; and his smile and attitude were infectious. Dave, astounded by the transformation he'd just witnessed from lower primate to wacky guy to regular guy, smiled and offered his right hand. "Nice to see you out-of-costume. You said you'd hoped that would happen."

"Yes indeed," Ricky nodded as he shook Dave's hand politely. "Nothing wrong with gettin' a li'l rowdy sometimes, but otherwise, I'm a pretty regular guy with a silly, extroverted side to me."

"Some might say 'obnoxious'." the bartender interjected.

"Yeah, and some might say you're _boring_!" Ricky shot back at the bartender with a generous degree of good-natured venom as he pulled a cigar out of his shirt pocket and began lighting and puffing it. "Glad to run into you again, Cap'n," he said returning his gaze to Dave.

"I was only Captain Dave when I was dressed for it," Dave smiled.

"So, now you're just Dave?"

Dave bobbed his head and shrugged for a moment. "Some of my friends call me Comrade."

Ricky smiled, leaned back, and nodded. "Comrade Dave: I like it. Are you of Russian descent?"

"There's some Russian in there, yeah. Once you get to Eastern Europe, it's pretty-much all the same, right?."

Ricky gave the raised-eyebrow thing again. "It suits you well, then." Ricky turned his stool to face the bar, leaned in Dave's direction, and spoke with more a more serious tone than he had previously. "Did you know that Russia is often symbolically depicted in literature and art as 'the bear'?"

"Yeah, I think I have heard that," Dave said, nodding and smiling, visibly bothered by Ricky's cigar but trying to be polite.

"Dave! Ricky!" A voice came from over Dave's left shoulder as Dave and Ricky looked up and over to their left.

"Hey, Rod!" Dave greeted and held his hand out for Rod to shake. Ricky did the same, and Rod shook hands with both of the seated men, taking a seat between them. "So, Dave, how have you been?"

Dave, dryly, "You mean since _Saturday_?" followed by a delayed smile. "Okay, not much has changed in three days. I'm avoiding the friends who almost dragged me into a fight Saturday night, and the people I would have been fighting with aren't talking to me. All-in-all, pretty normal. How are you?"

Ricky and Rod both responded by laughing. "You seem like a pretty mellow guy, Dave," Ricky observed, "but you're _funny_."

Dave smiled to himself as Rod nodded his head, agreeing with Ricky's comment. "I was just telling it like it is," Dave continued. "Must be my delivery because the actual events I described aren't necessarily funny." Dave stood and turned from the bar. "If you men will excuse me, I need to visit the little boys' room."

Crossing the far side of the dancefloor to the place where the restroom doors were located side-by-side, Dave wondered to himself how often the ladies' room was actually used. This was only his third visit to Scandals, true enough, but he'd yet to see a female in the place. It was just a passing thought. The mens' room was, as he expected, as well-used in appearance as the rest of the establishment. It wasn't the shabbiest restroom he'd ever seen, and it seemed perfectly functional: two urinals, a stall, two sinks, a paper towel dispenser, waste-basket, and a large mirror. The mirror was streaked, but the place was mainly free of vandalism save for a hole which appeared to have been punched into the side of the stall at about waist-level. Strange. Dave relieved himself at the urinal, washed his hands, and dried them, disposing of the paper towel as he caught his image in the large mirror. He thought he appeared pretty good, but the almost ridiculous number of layers became somewhat visually evident, even to Dave who was not entirely conscious of this aspect of his attire. He did wonder to himself whether the manner in which he was wearing his baseball cap appeared more blue-collar-bear or guy-trying-to-hide-himself. He exited the bathroom pushing all such thought out of his head.

When Dave returned to the bar, he noticed that Ricky had left but the strong cigar odor lingered. Rod sat there by himself, back to the bar, smiling casually as Dave sat down again.

"Did Ricky leave?" Dave inquired.

"Naw, he just went to talk to some of his friends on the other side of the room."

"Gotcha." Rod and Dave sat quietly as the music played for a few minutes, no conversation passing between them, until Dave broke the silence. "Hey, Rod, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Dave," Rod sounded friendly as always. "What's on your mind?"

Dave grimaced slightly as if he was either uncomfortable or having trouble articulating what he wanted to say. "Some of the guys here are really friendly. Some of them seem pretty indifferent. Is there a reason why only certain kinds of guys seem to strike up conversations with me?"

Rod's first reaction was to smile or even laugh, but something in Dave's face made him feel that this was pretty serious to Dave. "Dave," Rod began, "just like anywhere else, some people are friendly and some people aren't." Rod lifted his beer to his mouth and gulped. "Sometimes, if you want to talk to someone, you might need to start the conversation yourself." Dave nodded, understanding, but had a hesitant, cautious expression as Rod continued. "You can't tell how friendly someone is just by looking at them, and you're very obviously shy here. You might need to take for granted that some of the people here are as shy as you are."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Rod," Dave spoke, "but it would be nice to meet someone closer to my own age."

Rod smiled and shook his head. "No offense taken, Dave. I totally understand. We're all different, and we're all looking for different things. The guys who have been friendly, that's mostly just their nature. They like people to feel welcome, and wouldn't you rather be remembered by someone by leaving a good impression on them rather than a bad one? Maybe, if you see someone around your own age here, you might try starting a conversation with them yourself." Dave nodded, still an uncertain expression on his face. "See, Dave, the guys here aren't going to know what you're looking for until you let them know. The guys who are being friendly, they get that." Rod took another drink from his bottle. "That's not to say that any of those friendly guys wouldn't jump at the opportunity to get you in the sack, Dave." Dave smiled without making eye-contact with Rod as Rod continued. "But, if that's what you were looking for, you'd have gotten that many times already. Whatever it is you're looking for, maybe you're just not ready to go there yet. I think that anyone over the age of twenty-five here is going to understand that; anyone younger than that is probably still figuring out what they want and how to go about getting it."

"I haven't seen many guys close to my own age here," Dave mentioned.

"Sometimes they're around. The younger guys usually aren't regulars here. It's a every-once-in-a-while thing for a lot of them."

"Something else I wanted to mention," Dave spoke. "Um...I googled the term 'gay bear cub' and, um, I got some pictures that kinda bothered me."

Rod looked somewhat puzzled. "Why? What kind of pictures?"

"Some of them were attractive guys, but a lot of them were, like, heavy and, well, _unabashed_ , for lack of a better word."

"Yeah, well, the term 'bear' has a pretty broad definition," Rod explained. "A lot of the guys who are part of the bear crowd are just average guys. It's just that the people who make these rules and definitions always exploit and exhibit the most blatant characteristics of whatever they're talking about, so 'bears' become the equivalent of big, heavy gay men in the media universe. That doesn't make it so in the real world."

Dave smiled and nodded, seeming clearer on the definition now. "So, it shouldn't bother me if someone calls me a 'bear'?"

"I don't think it should bother you, but let me ask you something. Do you feel like a 'bear'?"

Dave thought for a moment. "I understand that I'm a big guy. I do have some body hair." Dave blushed at the admission but kept talking as if he didn't; he can't ever recall having a conversation about body hair before, his own or anyone else's, at least in this kind of context. "I can't ever imagine myself walking around shirtless, especially if I put twenty pounds on around my midsection."

Rod smiled, understanding Dave's answer. "Dave, we all have our comfort-zones. If someone doesn't respect that, ignore them. No one you've met here has ever badgered you to walk around the place shirtless, right?"

Dave snickered. "No. _Thankfully_."

"Some guys will intentionally make you feel bad about yourself for whatever reason. Probably because they're insecure. The thing is, Dave, it would serve you well to be respectful of others as well."

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant," Dave nearly exclaimed, fearing having offended Rod. "I just kinda meant that it's not me. And not any way I think I'd ever be. I'm just not that way."

"I get you. I wasn't accusing you of anything." Rod gulped the last of his beer. "It's just important that we're all accepting of each other, I think, unless someone has something against you. Then they're the person who needs to understand acceptance."

Dave nodded and smiled small but sincere at Rod's answer. "It's getting late, Rod. I should be going home."

"Walk you to your truck?" Rod offered with a wink.

"Sure," Dave grinned and blushed slightly.

When Dave was on the road home, he realized that the smell of Ricky;s cigar had permeated his fleece jacket. The odor was probably intensified by the fact that all of those layers caused him to sweat throughout the evening. Looking at the clock in his dashboard, he felt that he should be home before eleven. which was rather late, but not so late as to raise his parents' ire. At one point, he opened all of the windows and pulled over to the side of the road to remove his jacket, hoping the smoky tobacco odor would not follow him into his house.

Upon arriving home, he entered the back door as quietly as he could and quietly ascended the stairs. His dad was watching the television as usual.

"Hey, Dad," David spoke quietly.

Paul smiled slightly, nodded, and waved from his seat. Dave assumed that his mom was asleep by his father's gestures. His father didn't appear to be alarmed by the time of Dave's return. Dave made his way upstairs to his bedroom, stripped off his still-moist, still-smoky clothes, and showered quickly before bed.

Dave wanted to continue to sleep the next morning. He rose out of bed later than usual, but he didn't feel too tired. He was running a little later than usual, so he skipped breakfast at home, deciding to get something to eat at school. He said a quick parting word to his parents as he left for the day. The November morning was frosty and brisk, much cooler than the previous night. Dave grabbed the jacket which he'd left in his truck overnight and put it on despite that it the smoke odor seemed somewhat worse than he remembered.

 

* * *

  

Sean was sitting at his desk in his Calculus class organizing some of the previous day's notes before the late bell when he detected the stale tobacco smoke odor. He turned to his right to see Dave sitting down at his desk.

"Morning, Dave." Sean greeted, chirpy.

"Hi, Sean." Dave sounded tired. Dave appeared tired also. His face was pale and blotchy; he had the trace of dark rings beneath his lower eyelids. His eyes blinked closed slowly and lingered shut as Dave sat in his seat. It took Sean a moment to realize that the ashtray bouquet was coming from Dave. "None of my business, Dave, but were you up late last night or something?" Sean braved.

Dave shook his head, a reflex, and answered. "Yeah, I was out with some friends. A little late."

Sean nodded. He was a little saddened at the idea of Dave hanging with a new group of friends; but some people were like that: a new crowd every few months. And, of course, it wasn't as if Dave was no longer friends with Sean and his friends; he just didn't seem interested in being as much a part of their group as he had been only a week or two ago. "Where have you been over lunch lately, Dave?"

"Weight room. It's empty then." Dave wasn't impolite, but he wasn't particularly personable either. The two didn't speak for a few moments.

Sean, of course, knew about what had happened at Carl's Halloween party and why that might make an empty weight room preferable to Dave. "Is everything okay, Dave?" Sean asked, his concern was genuine and sounded genuine.

Dave exhaled loudly before actually speaking. "Yeah, I'm okay." Dave's response possessed all the humanity of a steel I-beam. "Thanks." The word of gratitude seemed softer and more sincere.

Throughout the day, Dave passed Gretchen in the halls, nodding and greeting her each time but never going into an actual conversation. The same was true for Johnno. It bothered him that the two were not seen walking together or talking. For the others, Sean, Howie, and Randy, Dave was equally polite but distant. He wouldn't start conversations with people like Nick and Carl, but Nick usually nodded or greeted Dave when the two passed.

"Fuckin' Dave," Sean mumbled under his breath to Gretchen as the two stood at Sean's locker while Dave passed at the other side of the hall, a few feet away but it might as well have been a mile.

"He looks a little out-of-it," Gretchen observed. "He's been like that before. He'll come around. He's moody."

"I dunno," said Sean. "Dave seemed like he was out all night or something when I saw him first-thing in Calc class this morning. Smelled like stale cigarette smoke and looked like he just woke up. Said he was out late with 'some friends'."

Gretchen appeared caring but detached. She'd seen close friends drift away before, and she'd really only known Dave for a couple of months. "Dave's puzzling in too many ways. People are difficult enough to figure out, but Dave's way more complex than most. I'll see what I can find out. Maybe I need to approach him one-on-one. I think he opens up more easily that way."

Sean smiled, but it was slight and defeated. "I hope you're right."

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 12,150

**Chapter 21**

 

**Wednesday March 7**

Kurt woke at his regular time feeling refreshed: a solid night's sleep was all that was necessary to negate the weird vibe he felt the night before. The dinner at David's was fine; great, actually. Spending time with David, Blaine, and Sean was fun also. Even the uncomfortable feeling with which the end of the night left him was gone, cleansed by the night's sleep.

It was before Kurt even left for school that he received a message from David.

David: _Good morning, Kurt. Thanks again for coming over and hanging out last night. I really needed that._ 6:57 AM

Kurt shot a message back, making time just before gathering his school items and getting out the door.

Kurt: _Good morning, David. It was a pleasure for both Blaine and me. Talk later?_ 6:59 AM

David's reply was quick as well.

David: _Definitely. You can call when you get home from school._ 7:01 AM

The day at school was relatively uneventful, the glee-session being the high-point of Kurt's day, and he found himself home at four o'clock after a stop at the grocery store. Having some time to spare before beginning dinner, Kurt picked up his phone and rang David.

"Hi, Kurt!" David's greeting sounded enthusiastic when he answered.

"Hello, David! You sound animated."

"Well," David replied, getting in a rough chuckle at the same time, "it's always good to hear from the outside world." David added a snicker. "I had a good day. I dove into my new lessons. Rupert told me to touch base with some of my friends from my classes to make sure I was aware of the stuff the teachers were stressing as important for the exams, so I'll be talking to Sean later tonight.".

"Sean and I talked for quite some time last night. He's a little awkward, but a nice guy, really."

"Yeah, when I first met him, it seemed like it took a couple of days of me talking to him for him to actually warm-up and say much back to me. Once he did, though, we hit it off." David laughed. "Reminds me, I'll be listening to the playback of Blaine's interview either tonight or tomorrow night."

"Do you have special plans for the audio portions of the project?"

"Yes, I do, but I still need to collect a few more interviews for it to work. Really, for the whole project to work like I want it to."

"Do you have any other definite ones?"

"Two definite ones: guys I chatted with online last fall. There was another guy I chatted with online who was in the Air Force stationed in Dayton. He said some stuff about don't-ask-don't-tell which would be an interesting perspective, but I haven't heard back from him yet. I may find a few more between now and then. Five interviews plus my perspective might be enough for a student project."

"It would be good if you could get some interviewees of different age groups involved," Kurt suggested.

"Well, one of the guys is in his forties and the other is sixty-six," David replied.

"That's interesting," Kurt replied, curiosity piqued. "How did you come across them?"

"Kinda weird story. I'll tell you next time we hang out or something if you remind me."

"Well, however you came in contact with them, I'm sure they'll add a perspective that neither Blaine nor I can." Kurt thought for a moment. "I don't know any gay people out of our own age group except Rachel's dads, and I don't think I'd ever think to talk to them about that kinda stuff."

"Why not?" David asked.

Kurt pondered. "I'm not sure. Good question, though."

"You figure, they've gotta have a story to tell, right? And their story would be so different from what ours will eventually be that it would be interesting to see the differences. And it's always that stuff that makes history really worthwhile, at least for me."

"You're right, it is interesting to think about, and it's something that would have never occurred to me," Kurt admitted. After considering for a moment silently, Kurt added, "I think your project will be pretty amazing when it's finished, David."

David chuckled hoarsely. "I wish I could sit back and be smug about how I thought the whole thing out and I'm some kinda genius, but, the truth is, it all came to me all of a sudden and I'm just kinda putting the pieces together as to how I'm going to accomplish it."

"David, you're a smart guy either way, and I'm picturing that, right now, you're reclining sideways on your gameroom couch, comfortable and looking smug, believing fully that you _are_ some kind of genius," Kurt let out a giggle, punctuating the image.

"Ha!" David laughed even more hoarsely than before. "Either you think a little too much of me or you've gotten to know me too well in too short a time." Both Kurt and David laughed, fully audibly. "Anyway, like I said, I'm just figuring it out as I go along," David explained further. " Any similarities to true genius are completely coincidental."

Kurt thought how fond he was becoming of laughing with David. "But was I right about the part where I pictured you reclining on your gameroom couch?"

"Close," David said casually, "I'm up in my bedroom just laying here on my bed." A few moments of silence passed. "Was thinking about having a short nap before dinner."

Kurt nodded dreamily for a moment. "Must be nice, David."

"What are you talking about?" David queried with a chuckle, still raspy. "Your parents aren't even around for weekdays, right? You can sleep all day if you want to."

"No, I couldn't sleep all day," Kurt retorted. "In fact, an afternoon nap can ruin my sleep for the night. It's a nice thought, though. Nice image."

"I'm good with a couple of catnaps sometimes," David admitted, sounding somewhat quieter and clearer. "What's a nice image?"

Kurt thought for a moment. He remembered saying it, but wasn't sure what exactly he meant by it, before finally replying. "I guess just the thought of being curled up and cozy to that point of relaxation in the afternoon is a nice thing to picture."

David replied quietly, smoothly. "I like a short afternoon snooze, but you just made it sound a little better than it is. Or maybe made me see that it's better than I thought."

Kurt smiled. "Sometimes you just need an outside perspective to see those things for what they are. Sweet dreams, David. You can text or call later if you like."

David snickered. "'Sweet dreams'? Thanks, Kurt; and thanks for calling. G'bye."

"Goodbye, David." 

 

**Friday March 9**

Kurt arrived at school at his normal time. He was at his locker retrieving books for his first class when Blaine walked up to him quietly and leaned in close over Kurt's shoulder, talking into his ear just above a whisper, "Good morning."

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt giggled, not needing to turn to see the person greeting him.

"Are we on for our regular Saturday together?" Blaine spoke, still quietly but less ambiguous.

"Do you even need to ask?" Kurt replied with some attitude, craning his head upward, nose in the air. "I thought it was a given, a standing appointment." Kurt turned to face Blaine, still facing upward, eyes cast down on Blaine's smiling face.

"Just checking," Blaine replied, smiling wide, his well-rehearsed smile befitting a toothpaste ad.

"Any ideas for an activity this Saturday?" Kurt asked, attitude eroding to a friendlier appearance.

"Same as always? Coffee and catching-up at the Lima Bean? Checking out all of the clothing stores? A movie maybe?"

_Catching up for what?_ Kurt thought. It's not like they didn't see each other every day and talk on the phone every night. What would they need to catch up on? Kurt smiled while exhaling, nearly sighing. "Yes, our standing appointment, then." Kurt smiled. He appeared pleased. He was pleased. He thought he was pleased.

The day passed quickly as most Fridays passed. Before the Friday Glee Club session, Kurt headed to the gymnasium. Mike had invited Blaine to a pickup game of basketball that some guys were getting together. It was a free period for Kurt and Blaine, and some of the classes let out early this particular Friday so it became a free period for several people. As it happened, and not surprisingly, most of the guys who showed up for the informal game were from the Glee Club: Mike and Blaine, Sam, Puck, and Finn all filtered in slowly at different times along with a few other boys until they were all moving, dribbling and tossing the basketball around; Lauren Zizes eventually showed up and took part in the game as well. Also filtering into the gym were Kurt, Tina, Rachel, and Rory; each took seats in the bleachers fairly close together but not exactly next to each other, casually watching the game, sifting through the day's assignments, and waiting for the period to be over. Rachel was busy leafing through some sheet music while Rory watched the game with some interest. Kurt tried to look over some of the notes he took for his English class, but he found the noise of the game and the bouncing ball echoing through the nearly-empty gym to be too distracting. Eventually Kurt's attention was drawn to the movement of the game. At first he was watching Blaine's movements. The game bored him, but Blaine didn't. Then Kurt's attention was absorbed further into the action of the game. Collectively, the game was not a particularly good one being that only a couple of the players were proficient, but the movement and the often-bungled short-term strategies became somehow mesmerizing to Kurt.

"I said I don't know much about the game, but they're not very good, are they?"

Kurt snapped his head to his right shoulder as he realized Rory had just spoken. "What was that, Rory?"

Rory laughed and repeated with his subtle brogue, "I don't know much about the game, but they're not the best at it, are they?" Kurt looked somewhat dazed as Rory continued. "It was the third time I said it."

Kurt smiled slightly. "Distracted, sorry. Yes, I agree." Kurt hardened his features with an agreeing expression. "They're not good players except maybe Finn and Mike. I can't imagine for the life of me why someone would want to do something that they're not good at."

Rory laughed again. "Maybe because it's fun? They asked me if I wanted to play, but I didn't think I knew enough about the game. Had I known it would be like this, I might have taken them up on it. That tough-looking girl is pretty good."

Kurt nodded and turned back to the game. No one had asked him if he wanted to play.

The boys and girl finished the short game and went to the locker rooms briefly to towel themselves off. Kurt greeted Blaine as he emerged from the locker room. "You didn't shower, Blaine?" Kurt accused with a statement phrased as a question.

"C'mon, Kurt," Blaine laughed. "It's the end of the day, and we were only playing for about twenty minutes. Barely worked up a sweat."

Kurt appeared skeptical and he reached an arm around Blaine's shoulder. He could feel the warm moistness at Blaine's nape, the hair at the back of his neck, and radiating through his shirt at his shoulders. Though Kurt's expression was one of casual disapproval, the sensation was not uninviting (and he'd never have admitted that verbally at the time). There was, very subtly, a wet, primal scent being emitted by Blaine to which Kurt found himself drawn. Kurt gently pulled Blaine close for a quick, sweaty kiss on the way to the choir room. Blaine didn't understand the reasoning, but he smiled anyway.

Even when Friday Glee Club is a non-event, it still brings out the best human qualities in the young performers, even if some of them were a little winded by a pickup game of basketball. Kurt left the school giving Blaine another quick smooch; by this time, Blaine was getting somewhat clammy, Kurt assessed. The two parted ways for home. Kurt would regroup with Finn in expectation of the late-evening arrival of Burt and Carole, home from DC for the weekend.

Sometimes the arrival of Burt and Carole is marked by fatigue and a yearning for sleep; other times, like tonight, there's an excitement which pumps the adrenaline: it's a completely unpredictable thing, Kurt thought. As the night wound its way toward the inevitable night's slumber, Kurt moisturized and cozied himself into his bed before his nightly call to Blaine.

"Good evening, Kurt." Blaine's voice sounded expectant.

Kurt giggled. "Good evening, Blaine."

"Everyone get in okay?" Blaine asked. "Dad and stepmom all fine?"

"Yes, everything is good here. How are things there, Blaine?"

Blaine laughed. "Nothing new since this afternoon, Kurt. Not that I can think of, anyway."

"Did you enjoy the basketball game before Glee?"

"Yeah, it was fun," Blaine answered. "It's not my best sport. I'm a little height-challenged to be very good at it, I think, but we were just having fun. Did you enjoy watching me?"

"Yes," Kurt answered while thinking to himself that he watches Blaine do many things. Kurt pondered this for a moment then spoke again. "Rory mentioned that even he could tell that most of you weren't very good."

"Being good is not the point of it. Having fun with friends is the point of it."

Kurt kept silent what he wanted to say. "Well, I'm just shy of exhausted, Blaine. I'll see you tomorrow at the Lima Bean, nine o'clock."

"Right, nine AM as usual!"

"Good night, Blaine. I love you."

"Love you too, Kurt. Good night."

 

**Saturday March 10**

Kurt's alarm clock roused him from sleep to the tune of "No More Tears (Enough is Enough)" by Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer. How curious, Kurt thought. He could have sworn that it was set to wake him to Adele. Since he was excited for his Saturday with Blaine, he didn't give it another thought.

It was incredible how the sunlight, streaming in through the windows, illuminated everything so strongly so early in the day. It must be a weather-related phenomenon, Kurt thought to himself. The effect was throwing the most ethereal light into his bedroom giving everything a soft-focus appearance. Kurt showered and did his hair. He had selected his outfit the night before, but he didn't remember it looking quite so stunning then. His hair appeared especially sculpted today also. Everything was perfect.

As he opened his bedroom door, he noticed that rest of the house was filled with the same spectral early-morning light phenomenon as his bedroom was; and the wafting air carried the most curious fruity scent. He wondered if this was something that Carole was making for breakfast. As Kurt descended the stairs and approached the kitchen, he felt somehow lighter, more agile than usual. Entering the kitchen, he saw Finn voraciously devouring a stack of pancakes as Carole flipped another batch of them flamboyantly through the air and onto a plate.

"Pancakes, Kurt?" Carole offered with a huge, almost grotesque grin.

Kurt didn't seem to notice the oddness of Carole's expression and flashed a nearly grotesque grin of his own, accepting the plate. "Sure! They smell _fantastic_ , Carole!"

Kurt sat across the table from Burt and next to Finn. Finn was eating loudly as if communicating through chewing noises, and Burt was trying to distract himself from his large bowl of plain, unembellished oatmeal.

"Morning, kiddo!" Burt greeted almost mechanically. "It's heart-healthy!" Burt blurted proudly, nodding in the direction of his oatmeal. "Sleep well last night? You appear well-rested."

"And dressed to kill!" Carole added.

Finn contributed more surreally-loud chewing noises.

"Thank you, Carole!" Kurt smiled almost too widely as he reached for the blueberry syrup and poured it sparingly on his pancakes as opposed to the seeming quart of maple syrup which Finn had dumped upon his butter-smothered stack. "Yes, Dad, I slept great last night."

"Are you going to the mall with _Blaine_ today, Kurt?" Carole asked, still irrationally cheerful emphasizing Kurt’s boyfriend’s name.

"Well, _duh-uh_! Of _course_!" Kurt beamed, "It's _Saturday_ , isn't it?"

The chewing, noises coming from Finn's direction added a snort, seeming to serve as a response. Finn's plate seemed perpetually full despite his zealous devouring actions.

Before Kurt knew it, though, his plate was empty and he was complimenting Carole on the wonderful pancakes, taking his nearly spotless plate to the counter, and announcing his imminent departure for his Saturday activities.

"Have a fun time, kiddo!" Burt announced, still fighting with his oatmeal, stirring it more than actually eating it as if this will somehow transform it into something more appealing.

"I will!" Kurt assured as he exited the kitchen. "See all of you wonderful people later!"

Finn responded with something like a swallowing sound mixed with a grunt and waved in Kurt's direction, not taking his eyes from his plate.

Though the ground outside was waterlogged and squishy, the breaking sunlight had a particular hue that was giving everything a pastel-yellow coloration. Kurt climbed into his Navigator and hit the road for the Lima Bean. He arrived, of course, early as usual, ordered his usual caramel latte, and took a seat at one of the more centrally-located tables: a good vantage point for locating the approach of his beau Blaine.

While waiting for Blaine, Kurt busied himself by leafing through the latest issue of _Couture ad Nauseum_ magazine. It wasn't his favorite fashion rag, but there was an interesting exposé about the appalling ideas of a new fringe group which actually has the audacity to call fashion unimportant. _Honestly, where do these philistines get their crazy ideas?_ Kurt thought to himself as he read the shocking article. Elsewhere, the magazine had another article of interest about the latest height of fashion which only one-sixteenth of one-percent of the population of France had the body to actually wear properly: talk about exclusivity!

Kurt's name was called so he bounced up to the counter to retrieve his caramel latte. The barista was a hip-looking young man with feathery-looking blonde hair and a touch of eyeliner, and he winked and pouted slightly as he handed Kurt his paper cup, topped high with whipped cream swirled with caramel in a lacy pattern.

Kurt sat down again at his table when he saw the door swing open and Blaine enter, a burst of light seemed to fill the establishment with his arrival. Blaine was dressed in a white-and-orange plaid shirt under a navy sweater vest and complemented with a coordinating bowtie. As their eyes met, Kurt smiled his best-rehearsed in-front-of-the-camera smile, an arm in the air to signal Blaine of his location as Blaine returned the expression adding his well-rehearsed puppy-dog eyes. Kurt swooned and Blaine walked up to the counter to order his drink. Blaine was handed his order almost immediately, seating himself across from Kurt with a frothy concoction dotted with a dusting of cinnamon.

"Good morning, my darling Blaine!" Kurt proclaimed. "Last night, I was checking out the _Salon de Tedium_ fashion-blog, and there was a really informative piece about using one's sexual orientation to influence friends to make risky fashion choices! The more outlandish the outfit, the more fun it is! It's like planking for people like me!"

"That's _fascinating_ , Kurt!" Blaine smiled, laughing and seeming almost too interested, eyeing Kurt's magazine.

"What about this weather?" Kurt held up his hands in a theatrically showy manner, facial expression all eye-contact and enthusiasm. "Have you ever seen the sun like _this_? It's like we're living in a pastel yellow cloud! The ground, though, totally early March: all sloppy and messy."

Blaine then asked Kurt, "Completely unimportant question as to whether I should invest in socks?"

"Relevant statement about the unpredictability of late-winter weather patterns in the North-eastern corner of the American Midwest," Kurt mechanically responded. "In support of purchasing apparel of any kind now however," Kurt explained, "gushing comment about the spring line!"

Blaine smiled handsomely and added, "Generic-but-endearing comment about the extent of Kurt's gayness!"

Kurt blushed as if on cue. Blaine smiled and the light caught his left upper-canine causing a sparkle of light to flash for a moment. Kurt giggled and trembled. "How did you _do_ that, Blaine?"

"Why, do _what_ , Kurt?"

"You know, silly! That sparkle-tooth thing!"

"Why, Kurt, it's _gay magic_! _You_ can do it _too_!"

"I _can_?"

"Sure you can!"

"Show me how, Blaine! _Pleeeeeease_?"

Kurt awoke with a start, the sound of his alarm nearly making him jump. It was seven AM, and "No More Tears (Enough is Enough)" by Andy Bell and k.d. lang was blaring almost painfully from his alarm device. He could have sworn that he had Adele set to be his alarm song.

Kurt rose and showered. Moving did not come without effort. The fading image of the dream from which he'd been shaken awake was making his head spin. Styling his hair was an exercise in frustration. No matter what he tried to do, it looked overdone. Kurt just decided to go with the soft, casual look for the day. This rendered the outfit which he'd prepared the night before completely inappropriate. Kurt settled on a long-sleeved gobelin-blue pullover embellished with a sparkly-but-tasteful design in a repeated skull motif and a looser-than-usual set of black jeans. If he wasn't feeling exactly perfect, he at least wanted to be comfortable. The light from the outside was painting the walls of his room gray once he turned his lights off. It gave him a chill so he layered a thick, buttondown sweater in charcoal-gray over the pullover top.

Breakfast with Burt, Carole, and Finn was cheerful and pleasant, if unremarkable; but it did serve to wake him slightly. The March morning was, indeed, gray, the ground was squishy, and the air carried a distinctly damp aroma. Kurt arrived at the Lima Bean. Blaine was predictably late, but not too late. The thought crossed Kurt's mind that perhaps Blaine's rock-star lateness was a vanity-thing. Kurt was bothered that the thought even crossed his mind, though.

The coffee was pleasant if without incident; not much had changed in the clothing stores during a week. After the mundane repetition of reviewing all of the clothes they saw the previous week (and liking them less the second time), Kurt was convinced by Blaine to swing over to the sporting goods store with him. There Blaine ran into Gordon, a student he knew from Dalton Academy, one which Kurt had not met during his time there. While Gordon and Blaine chatted, Gordon updating Blaine on the current Dalton sports melodrama, Kurt half-heartedly eyed track-and-field clothes: the color combinations of sports attire usually struck Kurt as gaudy, but, he thought, they're really no louder than that navy-with-red-trim Dalton blazer which he adored. After a few minutes, Blaine and Gordon went their separate ways, shaking hands and smiling goodbye; it occurred to Kurt that Blaine didn't bother to introduce him to Gordon, and this oddly didn't really bother Kurt: it somehow seemed acceptably expected Blaine protocol. Dinner at Breadstix was nice but typical. _Why is it everyone seems to eat there so often?_ Kurt wondered. _It must be the cheescake._ The two pondered taking in a movie; but, then, they often disagreed upon any movie choice, and this hadn't exactly been a weekend full of hot, new releases.

Kurt returned home after a brief-and-routine-but-not-uncomfortable smooching session under the cover of a dreary parking garage in back of Kurt's Navigator, a smooching session which, to Kurt's expectation, never cracked the line between PG and PG-13. The house was dreary. Finn didn't seem to be around, not that Kurt was looking for him exactly as Finn and he really didn't hang out that much; but Kurt felt like he could use someone impartial with whom to talk. Burt and Carole were in the family room, cuddled up on the couch in front of the television. Carole was good to talk with, but Kurt didn't want to spoil what appeared to be a cozy moment between her and Burt. Kurt wasn't sure what he wanted to talk about exactly, but he knew that it concerned Blaine and himself and what Kurt felt he wanted and what Kurt felt he needed or perhaps didn't need. The vagueness of Kurt's torpor was quietly galling.

It was just past seven o'clock in the evening, and the house was gloomy. Kurt thought for a moment that, for some, the gloominess was an opportunity for something different: coziness as in the case of Burt and Carole; a reason to get out of the house for Finn and his friends; but to Kurt, right now, it was just gloomy. Kurt wondered if it was as gloomy for Blaine as it was for him; Kurt wondered further that, if it was as gloomy for Blaine, why weren't they at least together in their gloominess with the option to transform it into something better? The two had just seen each other less than an hour before, but Kurt sent a text message to Blaine regardless.

Kurt: _Hi there. What are you up to?_ 7:08 PM

Kurt opened his laptop and it illuminated as he walked to the other side of his bedroom. The light coming from the screen added some electricity, light, and life to the glum atmosphere, raising Kurt's mood a few notches. Kurt's phone buzzed with Blaine's reply.

Blaine: _It's only been an hour since we parted! Can't stand to be apart, I see!_ 7:17 PM

Kurt grimaced at the smug message then another came in almost instantly.

Blaine: _Just joking! Watching an old football game on the classic sports station with my dad._ 7:18 PM

Kurt was, at first relieved that Blaine's initial comment was meant in jest (something very out-of-character for Blaine); then Kurt was baffled by the second statement: he's watching a rerun of a football game, possibly decades old; and, in doing this activity, Blaine seemed somehow more content than he was when he and Kurt were together earlier. Kurt replied, equally out-of-character and waiting several minutes before sending.

Kurt: _LOL! OMG! Well I won't disturb u then._ 7:24 PM

It wasn't perfect chat-speak, after all, Kurt is no Mercedes, but it was enough, Kurt thought, to send a subtle (or not-so-subtle) signal that he was irked. Or something.

Kurt : _Just call me later._ 7:26 PM

No reply. Kurt checked a few fashion blogs. Nothing grabbed his attention, certainly not enough to counteract his dark ennui. He thought of David and wondered how David spent nights like this. Probably watching the sports classic channel like Blaine and his dad, Kurt opined to himself.

Interesting to Kurt that, though he kept in nearly daily contact with David, there were times like this when he felt like they hadn't spoken or seen each other in weeks. Even stranger was this feeling when he considered that they weren't even actually friends for more than three weeks. If David seemed somehow distant right now, at this moment, from Kurt, something had amplified the thought, be it rational or irrational. Kurt knew he could contact David at any time, so he did.

Kurt: _Hi, David. How is your Saturday night?_ 7:43 PM

Just tapping to send the message somehow made Kurt less anxious about the tangle of thoughts in his mind. Kurt was actually somewhat surprised that the reply was almost immediate.

David: _Hey Kurt. Not really doing anything._ 7:45 PM

Kurt considered just calling, but thought that the politeness dictated one more text message.

Kurt: _May I call you?_ 7:45 PM

The phone lit up before Kurt was able to put it down on his nightstand.

"Hello," Kurt answered as a statement, sounding somewhat brighter than he'd felt a few minutes before but still feeling the shadow of his darker mood.

"Hi, Kurt," David's voice was quiet but clear, smooth, and somewhat higher in pitch than usual, giving a shy-sounding coloration to the sound. "What's going on with you?"

"Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering how my friend David was spending his Saturday night."

David laughed quietly. Kurt could hear the smile in the reply when David spoke. "Reading ahead in some of my textbooks. Doing some research earlier. Honestly, I think that's my life right now. How are you whiling away your evening, Kurt?"

"Honestly, I'm a little bored, David, and I'm almost never bored."

"I thought Saturday was your regular Blaine day. Thought maybe you'd be hanging with him or something."

"We were out earlier. We ran out of things we wanted to do, so we just went home. And then, when I came home, everything just seemed dismal and boring."

David replied, an understanding tone in his voice. "Yeah, I can relate. It is that time of year. The snow has stopped for the most part, but we're still getting those cloudy skies before the Spring weather starts happening. It still gets dark earlier in the evening."

"All that's true," Kurt agreed. "I think that's why Blaine and I just decided to go home early. The day was sapping our enthusiasm."

"I have nothing of substance to add to that, unfortunately," David replied, "but it sounds like a sound theory, I guess."

Kurt exhaled, nearly a sigh. "Blaine's watching an old football game on the sports classic channel with his dad." This made David chuckle quietly but audibly as Kurt continued. "Actually, I thought that you might be doing the same." Kurt paused for a moment. "Is there some insight you could add to that, David? I mean, you like sports. Help me understand the allure of watching a game that's, like, years old."

"I've watched old games, and I've enjoyed them. Honestly, though, I think that there are better ways to spend a Saturday night." David paused, collecting his thoughts. "If I was, like, a big-league, professional coach or something, it would be kinda like learning from a historical thing the way a young artist might study the work of an artist from decades or centuries ago."

"I see the analogy, David," Kurt responded, "but it seems like somewhat of a stretch; I mean, you already know how the game will end, right?"

"Well, it's like watching a favorite movie movie that you've already seen a few times. You already know everything about it, but it still makes you feel what made you love it in the first place, right?"

"I guess," Kurt pondered. "I'm still not sold on the idea, though."

"The idea's not going to work for everyone, but we all have stuff we're into and stuff we're indifferent to. Gretchen made me a mix CD of a bunch of music a while back: all random stuff. A lot of it I really liked, but some of it was this old, creaky-sounding stuff. I couldn't figure out why anyone would listen to that kinda stuff, but it's apparently still being listened to and studied."

"Who was on the mix CD?"

"Lemme grab it and tell you." Kurt could hear background noise of David shuffling things around. "Here it is," David said finally, the background noise stopped. "Okay, some of this stuff I really liked. I never actually made it through the whole disc because I usually just used it as background music when I was on the computer or something. Okay, there's some stuff on here by Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith, and Robert Johnson. Those are ones which sounded out-of-place. Gretchen could go on about how amazing this stuff is and why, and she's totally justified in her opinions on the stuff, I guess; but it doesn't do much for me. Maybe it will someday, though. Who knows? I guess we grow in and out of stuff like that."

"I've heard of Billie Holiday," Kurt offered, sounding suddenly more interested. "Diana Ross portrayed her in a movie. I never heard any of her original music, though."

"Well, Gretchen said that all of those people were influential and important and that their work is still studied and revered. Even if Gretchen misfires a few times, she's really good at turning people on to new stuff. Or old stuff, I guess. Who'd have known that she'd have me digging the Doors?"

Kurt made a slightly disparaging noise. "The Doors. Wasn't that guy a drug freak?"

"Yeah," David answered confidently, "and Billie Holiday was a junkie: doesn't mean that they didn't create valid art."

"You have a point, David," Kurt admitted after letting the notion sink in for a few seconds. Damn. David was now messing with the fabric of Kurt's reality on a regular basis. Not only was Kurt getting used to it, Kurt was actually acquiring a taste for it.

There was a period of silence for a few moments before Kurt spoke again, changing the subject. "How did you spend your Saturday, David?"

"I helped my dad clean out the garage and did some yard work."

"Ugh. Chores on a Saturday."

"It's not so bad," David reassured. "My life's pretty boring right now; and I get to spend time with my dad, and we've been getting along great. He's really been so amazing. Then, of course, we ordered take-out food and had dinner. I keep telling him that one of us is going to need to learn how to cook something more involved than breakfast and sandwiches for lunch." Kurt chuckled and David joined in laughing after a few seconds before continuing. "Actually, my dad did make a really good breakfast last week on my big test day."

"I love my dad to death, but most of my attempts to domesticate him have yielded very few positive results," Kurt said through a smile.

"Your dad is intense to the point of scaring me, but I can see that he's an amazing guy. What did you and Blaine do today?"

"Not a whole lot, really," Kurt sounded slightly squeaky and annoyed. "We met at the Lima Bean, had coffee, went to the Mall, and eventually ended having dinner at Breadstix."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Well, we talked about going to a movie, but we couldn't decide on anything that we both wanted to see. Most of the time at the Lima Bean and Breadstix was spent staring into each other's eyes. It was cute early in the day. By the time we got to Breadstix, it was almost ridiculous, I mean, there must be something to talk about or do or experience."

"Ah, well, I'm the last person who would have any clue what a good date is supposed to be like. I'm sure it's just this weird time of year. Soon enough, the two of you will be having a great time again. Maybe the two of you need to have some experiences that one of you is into and the other has never done."

"Like what? What do you mean, David?"

"I don't know. Maybe watch a game with Blaine sometime. Maybe have him tag along when you do something that you're into that he's never done, though I wouldn't know what that might be."

"Nice theory, but I don't think that would work, David," Kurt answered. "I've gone to football games with Blaine. He ends up being rapt with the game itself, and I text Mercedes while I wait for halftime."

David laughed, then composed himself. "Well, this is just a question, but did Blaine ever _try_ to get you to understand why he likes the game, or did he just basically get absorbed by the game and forget you were there?"

"Um, more like the second part, but not quite so extreme. Sometimes it seems like he keeps me out of the 'guy loop' whether he realizes it or not." Kurt paused for a moment. "Maybe it's just as well."

"I dunno. I'm just throwing out ideas, and you probably shouldn't listen to me anyway because I have zero experience here."

"It's okay, David," Kurt spoke with some warmth. "Your ideas are not bad ideas, and I'm glad to have you to talk to."

"Well, then, maybe sometime you and Blaine can get together with me and some friends, and we'll watch, like, a football game or something; and I'll try to get you to understand why people like Blaine and me like it so much." The suggestion was greeted with silence. "I'm not necessarily expecting you to instantly love the game or anything, but maybe you'll find out that it's really not so bad. And maybe it becomes an experience that you and Blaine can share more comfortably."

Kurt spoke after another period of silence. "You know, David, that actually makes sense, and it's not a bad idea at all; but shouldn't Blaine be the one to do those kinds of things like helping me to understand that stuff?"

"Maybe he doesn't know how, I dunno. Maybe he just thinks you'd shoot him down if he tried."

Kurt was taken aback though David's voice was calm and not accusing. Kurt could be incredibly stubborn and rigid at times about certain things.

"Whatever the case," David continued, "I like you and I like Blaine and I like the two of you together so if I can help that, I'm happy to do what I can."

"Okay, so does that mean you'll come with Blaine and me see a live musical theater performance?" Kurt quipped, not expecting a serious or affirmative reply.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I? I mean, if just to be able to honestly say that either I like it or it's not my thing. And, of course, having that experience with my friends would make it worthwhile in itself. Might be the only way to get me to go to something like that."

"Really?" Kurt asked, stunned. "You'd do that?"

"McKinley Karofsky would not have done anything like that," David paused and spoke clearly if softly, "but I would."

"Have you really changed _that much_ , David?"

"Geeze, Kurt, once I got to the point that I could deal with who I am, I didn't need to pretend any longer that I was this total closed-minded hard-ass. It opened up my world. In some ways I'm still the same guy I was, but I'm also okay with admitting that I can appreciate stuff I'd have never wanted anything to do with before." David stopped and regrouped his thoughts. "Okay, I'm still largely a work-in-progress, but the guy I've been for the last eight months has developed beyond the hung-up, insecure, issue-infected guy that terrorized you at McKinley."

" _Infected_?" Kurt asked. "Odd choice of words?"

"Nope. I was sick or poisoned or something. I mean, not literally, but something had poisoned the way I thought. Once I understood that I am gay and that's the way I am and that doesn't make me abnormal or anything, I started to slowly come out of that toxic mindset that kept poisoning so much of what I did. I thought that I had all of it out of my system last fall, but I didn't. I guess I'm still getting it out of my system, but my head's feeling healthier all of the time."

A silence passed, but it was not uncomfortable. It was actually pleasant. In Kurt's mind, David was making sense. David continued. "I also realized that now, I'm defined by so much more than I was. When I was at McKinley, I was, like, one thing: the mean big kid who slammed kids into lockers and knocked them around. I'm not that any longer. I don't want anyone to think I'm just the bully jock any longer. Hopefully, I won't be labeled so easily again."

Another silence, this one somewhat uncertain. Kurt finally spoke. "You're right, I think. I mean..."

Kurt's phone made a beeping noise in Kurt's ear: it was Blaine calling.

"Oh, David, Blaine's calling."

"Alright. You should go then. Hey, I'll probably be up for a while, you can text me later."

"Alright. Bye, David."

"Later, Kurt."

Kurt ended the call with David, picking up Blaine's call. "Hello, Blaine." Kurt sounded nominally polite.

"Hi, Kurt. What are you up to?"

"I wasn't really up to anything earlier, and then I texted David, and he called me."

"How's Karofsky doing?" Blaine sounded like the mention of his name brought a smile to his face.

"He's doing okay. I think it's gotta be tough for him to be alone so much of the time, though. I feel bad for him when I think about it."

"Does he seem depressed or something?" Blaine asked sounding genuinely concerned.

"No, not really. It just seems like he could be happier with some people around him sometimes. I mean, it's Saturday night, and he's at home reading ahead in his schoolwork. It sounds sad."

"And I was watching a vintage football game on TV with my dad, and you were, you said, up to nothing until you started talking with Karofsky," Blaine catalogued.

"What's your point, Blaine?"

"I guess I'm wondering what makes any one of those things better or worse than the others," Blaine answered objectively. "So, Karofsky was home alone on a Saturday night. I'm guessing there were no grand things going on at your place or you wouldn't have bothered to see what I was up to or what Karofsky was up to. And I was watching TV with my dad. Honestly, Kurt, you're thinking too much about it, and you're not responsible for Karofsky's entertainment."

Kurt laughed weakly at the logic. "Yeah. You're right." A few moments of silence passed before Kurt asked, "So, how old was the game you were watching?"

"It was from about six years ago, I think," Blaine answered.

"Okay," Kurt sounded somewhat sarcastic. "You've gotta let me know what you get out of watching a game that's six years old. It's not really old enough to appear any different than a new game, and you could, presumably, already know the outcome."

Blaine took several seconds to verbalize his answer. "Uh, it's just, like, a guy-thing."

"A guy-thing." Kurt said, slightly flummoxed. David had given a far better answer to that same question, and David's answer was something short of spectacular.

"Yeah. You know. Not _your_ thing."

"I'm a guy, Blaine," Kurt spoke unemotional, greatly flummoxed, slightly humiliated.

"Kurt, I just don't think you'd get it." Blaine sounded dismissive.

Kurt was silent for a moment: flummoxed, humiliated, definitely dehumanized. David's answer was infinitely better and far more respectful.

"Well," Kurt finally spoke, "what's on your itinerary for tomorrow?" The question was idle chatter designed to mask some element of Kurt's anger.

"Probably talking to you a few times in the morning and afternoon. Sunday dinner with the parents in the evening. Maybe we can get together tomorrow afternoon?"

Kurt's mood lightened at the suggestion. "Sure. I just need to check that the parents here have nothing in mind."

"We'll work it out tomorrow."

Kurt wasn't physically tired, but his mind was stressed. "I'm kinda winding-down for the night, Blaine."

"Yeah, me too, Kurt. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night."

"Good night, Blaine. I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt."

Kurt held the phone to his ear for several seconds before he heard Blaine end the call on his end. Kurt then reached over to his nightstand and connected the phone to its charger, reclining onto his bed as he rested the phone on the surface of the bedside table. Kurt lay there for several minutes, parts of the night's conversations replaying in his mind.

David was no longer the McKinley monster. He could not be so easily labeled. Kurt, on the other hand, was the dictionary-definition of the flamboyant gay boy. David was complex and undefinable. Kurt was the gay kid.

More bothersome was that David's logic granted Kurt respect; Blaine's did not. David didn't verbalize, no, he didn't even imply, that Kurt was simply the gay kid; Blaine had said it loud and clear though not in such blunt terms. Blaine had bought into the ruse: in his mind, Kurt was reduced to stereotype. The idea was downloading in Kurt's brain like a compressed file expanding and installing itself.

When exactly did this happen? Did Blaine always consider Kurt to be his trivial, domestic-arts-minded, objectifiable friend useful for times when he feels he needs his ego to be stroked but not worthy of even an introduction to his sports buddies or an objective, mature conversation or even a straight answer?

Kurt fell asleep, his mind spinning, his evening skin-care routine completely neglected.

 

**Sunday March 11**

Mercedes: _Hi Kurt. Im gng 4 manicure + pedicure 2day. Been a while. R U game?_ 10:08 AM

Kurt: _Hi, Mercedes. Thanks for asking, but I'm going to pass on it today. I have some things going on, and I'm just not feeling it._ 10:09 AM

Mercedes: _Well, thn, I gss Ill C U 2morro N school._ 10:09 AM

Kurt: _Have a good Sunday, Mercedes. Sorry i can't join you._ 10:10 AM

Mercedes: _U2. L8er, Kurt._ 10:11 AM

 

* * *

 

Kurt: _Good morning, David! I'm sorry that I didn't text you later last night, but I fell asleep after talking with Blaine._ 10:16 AM

David: _Hey Kurt. It's cool._ 10:22 AM

Kurt: _Is it alright to call right now?_ 10:23 AM

David: _Yeah_ 10:24 AM

Kurt dialed David upon reading his texted response.

"Hey." David's voice was soft, low, and indifferent-sounding.

"Good morning, David," Kurt sounded cheerful, not registering David's low-key delivery. "Did you just wake up? It's fairly late in the morning."

"I woke up a while ago. I was up pretty late." David's words were short and mechanical.

"Why were you up late?" Kurt sounded bright and curious.

"Reading stuff. Nothing important."

Brevity. David had been like this before. It struck Kurt; still he was trying to be positive. "Did you have trouble getting to sleep?"

"No. Just started out bored. Reading stuff online. Then it was, like, two o'clock. Thought it might be time to crash. Laid awake for a while."

"Is everything okay, David?" Kurt's concern switched on and was genuine.

"Yeah, Kurt. I'll be okay."

There was some silence before Kurt responded. "You'll be okay? Does that mean you _weren't_ okay?"

Silence again. Again Kurt spoke. "David, you were really talkative last night, and I love some of the conversations we have. Like last night's." Kurt was thinking of what he'd say next when David responded.

"Last night was last night. Today is another day. Pretty-much the same as yesterday."

Kurt understood what was unsaid, and he felt bad that he didn't get back to David after talking with Blaine the previous evening. David was alone on a Saturday night, and Kurt realized that he himself represented some small-but-sufficient contact with someone.

After more silence passed, Kurt spoke, leaving no doubt about his view of David's state of mind. "David, I think you're really isolated and alone. I've thought that before, but I don't know what I can do about it." Once again, Kurt was about to say more when David interrupted.

"Okay, Kurt, I know all of that. I'm dealing with it, and I don't need to hear it from you or _anyone_." His voice raised, an aggressive tone. He heard Kurt's breath rise on the other end. "Don't get all weepy on me, Hummel, Okay?"

This put Kurt on the defensive. He felt David's pain, but he wasn't going to suffer this behavior when he was doing his best where David was concerned. Kurt spoke calmly and clearly, somewhat louder.

"Okay, David. I don't know exactly why you're speaking like this to me. You're someone I care about, but you're repelling me right now. I don't think that's what you want to do. I'm going to let you go for now. You can call me later if you like, okay."

"Okay." David's voice was quiet.

"Goodbye, David."

 

* * *

  

The call went dead before David had a chance to say 'goodbye'.

He sat in silence for a while in his bedroom. He _was_ disappointed last night because Kurt hadn't called back or texted him later in the night. David _was_ isolated and alone. Kurt's call the previous evening raised his spirits; the lack of a response later in the night sent him slowly descending. The mix CD Gretchen had given him months ago was in his player from late last night. He found the song which he'd set on repeat as the hours drew into the early morning.

_They looked at me like they never seen something like that in their lives_  
 _I wanted to shove it right down their slimy throats_  
 _I went right back to my cell and freaked out by myself_  
 _And don't you know it feels good to know without a doubt to know_  
 _I am what I am all about_  
 _Back in my jungle, back in my cell_  
 _A man in front of the barrel of a gun_  
 _Instructions: remain calm_  
 _My dreams they all die_  
 _In my dreams they all die_  
 _I'm exterminating from the inside_  
 _No one hears a scream_  
 _No one holds or heeds to my dreams but me_  
 _The assassin of my dreams comes to destroy from the inside_  
 _The assassin of my dreams exterminates without mercy, without judgement_  
 _I am the assassin of my dreams_  
 _I am the exterminator of my thoughts_  
 _I am the rough that corrodes my will_  
 _I am my worst enemy_  
 _I am my best friend_  
 _I am my end_  
 _Remain calm_  
 _Prepare to destroy  
_ _Part animal part machine_

 

* * *

 

Sunday was a much nicer day that the previous day had been. The sun was bright; and although it wasn't exactly warm, the light was pleasant and warming. Kurt was meeting Blaine at the Lima Bean (again). They'd spoken earlier, and made plans to so. Kurt was early as usual, primarily because he had allotted time to prepare himself, also as usual, but he just wasn't feeling it. He could have done something fun and fashionable with his hair, he could have worn something more dressy, but it just seemed unnecessary; and it just didn't suit his mood of the moment. His primary concern was to attempt to find some resolution to yesterday's odd meetings and conversations. A seasonally-unspecific gray sweater, gray jeans, and gray knee-length jacket suited his mood appropriately as did his unstyled-but-presentable hair which he threw back and slightly to the left side of his face.

Blaine entered the coffeehouse and visually located Kurt's table, waving and smiling. Kurt shot eye contact and a forced grin in return. After a few minutes, Blaine sat down, pleasant-faced and smiling wearing a Sunday-specific medium-blue shirt with charcoal dress pants and a white sweater worn over his back with the sleeves tied loosely about his shoulders. Greetings followed, then the part where Blaine sips his coffee while staring deeply into Kurt's eyes. Kurt sat straight and leaned against the back of his chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. He appeared somewhat confrontational.

"You look really, like, casual today," Blaine observed. "Two days in a row now. Are you feeling okay?" Blaine smiled slightly uncertain.

"No," Kurt sounded dismissive and rolled his eyes away. "Just wasn't feeling terribly pretty today, I guess. More functional than decorative." Kurt shrugged.

Blaine registered some look of mild disappointment. "So unlike you."

"Unlike me really, or unlike the me you expect? Or want?"

Blaine lowered and cocked his head, raising an eyebrow, frowning slightly. No words.

"Blaine, are you, like, embarrassed of me, or something?"

_"What?"_ Blaine's face registered surprise or shock, even. "Kurt, no. Why would you ask that?"

"Why didn't you didn't introduce me to your friend yesterday."

Blaine's face pained slightly, but he addressed Kurt directly. "He's one of my sports buddies." Blaine shrugged dismissively.

"Well... I kind-of make it a point to introduce you to my friends. _As_ my _boyfriend_."

"I didn't think you'd have anything to talk about."

"It would have been an _introduction_ , not a _conversation_ , Blaine." Kurt looked away, down at his drink then to his side. "I feel kind-of disrespected."

Blaine appeared somewhat angered, definitely confused. "I really didn't think you'd want to meet him, Kurt."

"I'm your _boyfriend_. We're kinda _connected_."

Blaine rolled his eyes, looking away. "I just didn't think it was that important."

"Okay, I'll drop it then."

Blaine appeared relieved. "So, anything going on at home? Parents okay? Finn?"

_Completely unnecessary small-talk, trivial and forced_ , Kurt thought. "Business as usual at the Hummel-Hudson household."

Kurt exhaled loudly and softened his posture somewhat. "I am a little worried about David."

" _Still?_ "

"Yes, I know I shouldn't feel like I'm responsible for being his connection to the outside world, but most of the people David thought were his closest friends have abandoned him."

Blaine rolled his eyes in frustration. "Karofsky's a big boy. I'm sure you're not giving him enough credit to take care of himself."

"It's been almost four weeks, Blaine. Imagine being at home without seeing all of your best friends, or any friends, really, for four weeks. David even lost his mom in this thing."

"I really don't see how that's your problem." Blaine's words betrayed an irritation, a building anger.

"I told him I'd help him." Kurt sounded driven, committed. "I'm keeping my word to David."

Blaine threw his hands and his gaze into the air, eyes finally resting on Kurt's, Blaine's penetrating stare addressing Kurt, point-blank. Mouth slightly agape, silent for a moment, Blaine finally spoke, loud, just shy of yelling. "And since when is he ' _David_ '? We always called him 'Karofsky'. Everyone calls him 'Karofsky' except a couple of people who call him 'Dave'."

Kurt's eyes narrowed, quiet rage, Kurt spoke, nearly whining, "That's his name, Blaine."

"You're the only person who calls him that!"

Fortunately, the background music at the Lima Bean was loud, some vintage jazz recording, or the two of them would have been quite a distraction to the other patrons.

After about thirty seconds of a silent-dagger-stare from Kurt, Blaine spoke again, loudly. "Y'know what? Maybe we should just take some time off. Call it for a while. Give us some time to figure out where our heads are at."

Kurt cocked his head, folded his arms over his chest, raised a shoulder, and spoke clearly, precisely, and quietly. "I agree."

Blaine backed against his chair-back, stunned. That was _not_ the reaction Blaine predicted. He fully expected Kurt to whine and plead like he did the night the two of them left Scandals. Blaine was fully prepared to leave a sobbing Kurt alone at the Lima Bean and drive home only to have the two of them come to a cuddly understanding the next day with Kurt admitting his error; after all, Blaine was the masculine, sports-minded, dominant one. But it didn't happen.

" _What?_ " Blaine sounded baffled.

Kurt softened and backed against his chair also, tilting his head and spoke sincerely without breaking his position on the matter. "Blaine, we've been at this for a while. Over a year. We should have some of this stuff ironed-out by now. We should know each other better, and I'll take the blame for half of that; but taking a break for a while is a completely reasonable action right now."

Blaine leaned forward, placed his right elbow on the table, propped his forehead upon his hand, and looked at Kurt. "You're serious."

Kurt nodded. He didn't seem angry; he seemed more exhausted by the intricacies inherent in the exchange. He stood, picked up his drink, and stopped momentarily next to the seated Blaine. "Goodbye, Blaine. See you in school tomorrow." Kurt stepped away from Blaine and proceeded to walk to the exit. There was no bounce to his gait: a casual, purposeful stride.

Kurt climbed into his Navigator, placed his paper cup in his drink holder, and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Kurt was halfway to home when his phone lit up with an incoming text. _It can wait_ , he thought, assuming it to be from Blaine. As Kurt came to a stop at an intersection when a yellow light shifted to red, he picked up his phone and read the message.

David: _Please call me when you can. Please._ 2:46 PM

Kurt put his phone down quickly, the thought of Quinn Fabray crossing his mind. The stoplight was still red. The text message melted Kurt's heart. He thought to himself that maybe it shouldn't, but he understood that David was alone much of the time and possibly in great pain. As he pulled into his driveway and parked his Navigator, he thought about waiting to call David, to make him sweat for a while; but he couldn't bring himself to do that: Kurt wasn't vengeful in the least. Upon entering the house and seeing everything as normal, dinner not yet ready, and the weekly ride with Burt and Carol to the airport hours away, he climbed up to his bedroom and dialed David.

"Kurt." David's voice was soft. He exhaled loudly after he spoke Kurt's name.

"Hello, David." Kurt spoke quietly but clearly, trying to sound as approachable as possible.

"I'm really sorry for talking to you like that earlier."

"David, I..."

"Please let me finish," David softly cut Kurt off. "There's no reason for me to be that way with you. If I get that way, knock me down. You can do it, you did it today. Yell at me if you want to. Remind me who I'm talking with. I don't want to push you away."

A period of silence passed. David finished what he wanted to say.

"David, I understand that you're really alone. That can hurt."

"It hurts a lot sometimes, Kurt. I was really let down that we didn't talk later in the night." David was silent for a moment. "I'm selfish. I shouldn't expect that from you."

"David, I'm trying to be a friend to you."

David interjected quickly. "You are, Kurt. You've been an incredible friend to me these past few weeks. I shouldn't expect more."

"I really haven't really done that much."

"Kurt, you've done more than you know."

" _You_ could have texted _me_ or something." Kurt knew that wasn't the same. He knew that David was alone and waiting for someone to show him, even through the smallest action, that he mattered.

"Yeah. I could have."

"David, do you ever get tired of apologizing?" Kurt's voice was slightly more analytical. "I mean, you seem to be apologizing to me a lot."

"Yeah, I guess, but not to you. Especially if I talk to you badly like that. I owe you a lot. That's all, just leave it at that. Please."

"I really don't want to hear you apologize to me again. Really, can you move on from this?"

"Yeah, I'll try. But, really, bust me down if I get like that again."

"Okay. How was your day otherwise?"

"Really, not much going on here. I've been in my room most of the day. Dad knows when something's bothering me, and he's been great with me. I just can't talk with him about everything, though."

"Yeah, I know how that is, David."

"I'm kind-of exhausted, but," David's words hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, Kurt. Just, thank you. I think I need to get some sleep. I'll be doing some school work and working on my History project later, but I'm really tired right now."

"Okay, David. I'll text you later. Maybe we'll talk again tonight."

"Okay. Goodbye, Kurt."

Kurt thought he could actually hear David smile through his words. "Goodbye, David."

At dinner that night, Kurt told Burt, Carole, and Finn that he and Blaine are taking some 'time off'. Carole's reaction was swift and sympathetic, wrapping her arms around Kurt and consoling him until Kurt said, quite matter-of-factly, that he felt it was a good idea. He explained that He and Blaine hadn't been communicating all that well lately, and Kurt, for one, was okay with the move, even welcomed it. Carole seemed a little disappointed, if only that she couldn't be sweet and motherly for Kurt this time; and Burt, though surprised, admired Kurt's objective view on the event. Finn listened intently, but added no words confident that, if Kurt was okay with the breakup, he was fine with it also.

 

**Tuesday March 13**

As expected, Monday morning brought an apology from Blaine. Kurt was adamant that their breakup, temporary as it might be (stressing the word 'might'), was something that he welcomed for the time being. They were still inseparable friends, but that didn't stop the awkward feeling that manifested in both of them. Mercedes, having spoken to Blaine before Kurt about the breakup, began to assail Kurt with verbal abuse until Kurt told her that it was Blaine who initially suggested the action and Kurt merely agreed. Mercedes backed down, and, as a result, the Glee Club gossip-factory was oddly silenced.

Otherwise, Monday and Tuesday proceeded without event. Kurt texted David regularly throughout both days and spoke with him Monday evening: a typically pleasant conversation about the goings-on at McKinley for Kurt's part and the lessons and other minor daily activities for David's.

It was just before five o'clock on Tuesday afternoon when Kurt's phone rang. It was a call from his father.

"Hello, Dad!"

"Hi, kiddo!" Burt sounded very-much his blunt self.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked brightly.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you. Paul Karofsky called me. He wants to ask a favor of you, and he wanted to check with me first to get my approval before he asked you."

"Okay, now I'm curious."

"Paul has to go out of town on business Thursday morning, but he'll be back Friday afternoon. He doesn't want to leave Dave at home alone considering what happened last month, and he wants to know if you'll stay with Dave Thursday night into Friday morning. Listen, I know you've had problems with Dave, but I also know that you've become friends. I trust your judgement on this, even though I have my reservations. When Paul calls you, you can talk with him about it."

Kurt was surprised by the news. He really didn't know how to react. His duty as a friend to David made him want to agree to it, but he was still too stunned to say anything.

"Listen, Kurt, I know you've sorta broken up with Blaine, but that's a non-issue in this as I see it. I remember being uncomfortable when I found Blaine sleeping in your bed last year, but you set me straight on that, so, yeah, I trust you'll do the right thing, but make sure _you're_ comfortable with it and it's alright by _you_ , okay? If you _do_ decide to do this, and anything, I mean _anything_ bad happens, you get your butt outta that house and call 911 or me or Finn immediately, do you hear me?"

Kurt shook himself out of his speechlessness. "Um, yeah, Dad."

"Call me back after you've made your decision, and let me know what you're gonna do, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

"I gotta get going, now, but behave yourself, and take care until I'm back for the weekend, alright?"

"Yeah, okay, Dad. I love you, Dad."

"Love you too Kiddo. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Kurt was severely taken aback by the conversation. He had questions as to why Paul would ask _him_ to look after David, but he assumed that those would be answered by Paul himself when he called. He didn't have to wait long.

At six-thirty, just as Kurt was cleaning up after dinner, his phone rang. It was an unfamilar number with a local area code.

"Hello?"

"Hello," a man greeted back, pleasant and clear. "Is this Kurt Hummel?"

"Speaking."

"It's Paul Karofsky, David's father."

"Hello, Mr. Karofsky. My dad called and told me to expect a call from you."

"Yes, and I trust he filled you in on why I'm calling."

"He did. You want me to stay over with David Thursday night."

"That's correct. I'll be gone on business all day Thursday and getting back Friday afternoon. I'm asking you because most of our adult family around here isn't really friendly to David's situation. Asking his mother is really out of the question. I could ask his friend Sean, but, well, I know more about you. David and I have talked about you. He trusts you. _I_ trust you, and I feel I know you better than I know Sean. If you don't want to, I understand, and I will ask Sean. I suppose I could ask David's tutor, but I didn't want to be imposing on his..."

Kurt interrupted. "No, I'll do it. I'm okay with everything. Really, it should be no trouble at all."

"Are you _sure_? I consider this a big favor, and I..."

"Please, Mr. Karofsky, I'm fine with it. I'll talk with David and iron out any details between now and then."

"Thank you, Kurt," Paul sounded relieved. "Like I said, you're doing me a big favor with this."

"You're welcome, and don't mention it."

"Okay. I'm sure I'll talk with you soon."

"Goodbye, Mr. Karofsky."

"Goodbye, Kurt."

Kurt ended the call, and walked into the Family room where Finn was watching the television, idly surfing channels, working the remote like a video game controller.

"Hey, Finn?"

"What's going on, Kurt?"

"Mr. Karofsky is going out of town on business, and he asked me to look after David Thursday night, so I'll be crashing there."

"Really?" Finn sounded stunned. "Does Burt know about this?"

"Yes, actually, Dad called me about it first. David's dad called Dad to make sure it was okay with him first before calling me."

"How do _you_ feel about it?"

"If I didn't feel right about it, I wouldn't have agreed to it."

Finn shrugged. "I know you, and you're gonna do what you want to do no matter how anyone else feels about it."

"What does that mean?"

"Just that you're kinda stubborn that way; but, hey, before you take that as an insult, _I_ know that you wouldn't do it if you didn't feel right about it. I also know that, no matter how stubborn you can be, you're a smart guy. Just promise you'll call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Kurt answered, humbled and satisfied by Finn's words. "Do me a favor, though?"

"Sure, but it depends."

"It's no big thing. Just don't tell anyone at school about it, okay?"

"No problem. No one's business anyway."

"Especially Blaine."

"He's not your boyfriend anymore, so same goes for him: none of his business."

Kurt smiled. "Thanks, Finn. You're awesome about ninety-three percent of the time."

Finn, smirking, tossed a throw-pillow at Kurt which was handily deflected and tossed back with a laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced is "Hot Animal Machine 2" by Henry Rollins


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 7,000

**Chapter 22**

 

**David at Thurston, Part 11**

The evening was clear and the weather was unseasonably mild for November. There was a slight chill in the air, but it was nothing a jacket couldn't overcome. Dave wore his denim jacket which was a couple of years old and feeling somewhat tight on him at this point. In his blue baseball cap, jeans, and a t-shirt under his jacket he looked like a truck-driver. Well, he _was_ driving a pickup truck, he thought to himself, chuckling as he drove the road to West Lima. The jacket was a little tight, but maybe someone at Scandals might find that appealing.

He entered the bar, and found it to be surprisingly active and populated for a weeknight, he thought. As with the last time he came, the man at the door waved him in upon recognizing him. There was a surprising number of men in drag in attendance at the bar this evening; Dave surmised that it might be a themed evening of some sort. The bar area itself was crowded, and, unlike the other times he'd come, there were no empty seats at the moment. Dave walked to the far end of the bar, ordered a beer, and opted to stand over by the entrance to the mens room.

He stood there for some minutes in the shadows, looking around to see if anyone he recognized was there. No sign or Rod or Ricky or Tom and Michael, not even any of the bear-guys who introduced themselves to him when he was in his pirate costume: the bar was somewhat crowded, but Dave saw no one he knew.

He thought to himself, though, that he wasn't uncomfortable. It was crowded enough for him to remain hidden, and the crowd was interesting enough to keep him entertained. From his vantage point, he could see the entirety of the bar and its patrons. Though most of the people were, as usual, much older than Dave, he did see a sandy-haired young man sitting at the bar. Dave found him attractive, but not in any remarkable way. He thought that, if one of the bar stools emptied, he might walk over and try to strike up a conversation with the young man. Dave was still painfully shy in this environment; but everyone he'd met here had been friendly, and that helped calm his anxieties. He stood and waited and watched.

The dancefloor caught his attention for a few minutes. Some of the guys were very good dancers, he thought. He didn't feel confident enough in himself to go out onto the dancefloor and begin dancing, even though he was sure he could probably dance just as well as some of the other guys on the floor. He leaned gently against a large speaker cabinet which was standing next to him, testing for its stability before he let it absorb his weight. It seemed stable, so he made himself comfortable leaning there for a while. His beer was rapidly emptying. He shot his eyes over toward the bar when he saw two young men enter the building, walk into the bar area, and begin talking with the sandy-haired young man sitting at the bar. All three of them were attractive-looking guys, and he briefly entertained the idea of walking up to them and introducing himself. All of these guys were dressed somewhat fashionably, though, and Dave was dressed like, well, a truck driver. Still, these guys looked to be close to his age and... _Oh, fuck_.

 

* * *

  

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

David was almost shaking in the asylum of his truck, still parked in the Scandals parking lot, having left the building only minutes ago.

_Just when I'm feeling that I'm getting a handle on this, just when I feel I'm in some kind of control,_ he _comes walking into the one place where I don't need to pretend to be something I'm not and throws my fukin world into a tailspin just like he did a year ago. And all I can do is gawk and grin like a crush-happy, giddy 13-year-old girl. And then he stood up and_ walked _and left me sitting there by myself. And all I could do was shrink up and fucking leave the place._ Kurt fuckin' Hummel _._

He wasn't even completely certain how he arrived to be in his truck. He remembered sitting next to Kurt. He couldn't contain the smile from his face. He tried to be cool and appear in control, but the presence kept repeatedly stretching his face into that smile. Until he became defensive: _childish, really childish_ , David thought to himself. Then, just when something started to feel comfortable, Kurt stood and left David alone at the bar. David didn't remember finishing his beer, standing up, and walking out of the bar to his truck appearing quite in control of himself. Once inside the truck, though, he imploded.

_Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine._

David remembered the line from one of the old movies Gretchen's parents were watching during one of his visits to her house. It felt beyond fitting. David realized at this moment how much Kurt tried to do for him. Kurt gave enough of a damn when everyone else would have probably hated who David really was. Kurt knew and never told anyone. Kurt left himself open to help David. Kurt made an effort to try to understand David. If he could have seen all of this a year ago, he might not be fucked up over this: the Kurt that David left behind at McKinley was exactly the friend David wanted right now.

David needed to turn on his car radio to drown out the incessant, repetitive thumping dance beat coming from the club. As the radio droned in the background, thoughts raced through David's mind: things in the past that he couldn't change but regretted almost mortally, things he needed to understand about himself, the reason why just seeing Kurt Hummel tonight was enough to make his brain scream.

_And it's been a while_  
 _Since I could hold my head up high_  
 _And it's been a while  
_ _Since I first saw you_

A bleak, depressing song, David thought, but it was somehow sympathetic to David's thoughts at this time.

_And it's been a while_  
 _Since I can say that I wasn't addicted_  
 _And it's been a while  
_ _Since I can say I love myself as well_

David's mind was flooded with memories of all the times he hated what he was and what he was afraid to allow himself to feel.

_And it's been a while_  
 _Since I could look at myself straight_  
 _And it's been a while  
_ _Since I said I'm sorry_

He owed Kurt so much. _How could Kurt not hate him?_ he thought, _and what gave David the audacity to call Kurt out for possibly judging him?_ If anyone had the right to pass some kind of judgement on David Karofsky it was Kurt fucking Hummel. Apologies were only the beginning of what David owed Kurt.

_And it's been a while_  
 _Since I've seen the way the candles light your face_  
 _And it's been a while  
_ _But I can still remember just the way you taste_

_Aw, Fuck!_ This song was killing David on the inside. He could feel the tension rise in his shoulders and his neck; he could feel his hands curling into fists; he felt like he needed to hit something, and he didn't know if it was because he wanted to destroy something or injure himself.

He heard the indistinct chatter of distant voices and lifted his head. There he saw Kurt and the dark-haired boy walking across the parking lot. Kurt seemed to be holding the other boy up as they walked. David craned his head as they walked to a far side of the lot and toward a Lincoln Navigator. He watched Kurt open the car then help the dark-haired boy into the back seat; and then he watched as Kurt was pulled into the back seat also.

David's stomach dropped within him. _They were making out in the fucking car. They were going to maybe fuck in the car._ David felt like his second beer was on its way back up his esophagus at this point. He wanted to get out. He felt that he wanted to be protective of Kurt, and this was no way for the dark-haired boy to conduct himself. Of course, the thought entered David's mind that it was possible that Kurt _wanted_ to have sex with the dark-haired boy, and, if that was the case, David's intervention would be unwelcome for the two boys and humiliating for David. Then David saw what appeared to be a struggle. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. David reached for the door handle to open the door and jump out of his truck when he saw the two jump out of the back seat. It appeared that an argument was ensuing, and the dark-haired boy threw his hands into the air in frustration, walking away from Kurt. David could hear Kurt calling out the other boy's name in desperation. Did he just witness a breakup?

This was David's moment. Kurt seemed to be in tears, and David pulled his door handle, eager to lend an ear and console Kurt; but before David even fully stepped out of his truck, Kurt had placed himself behind the steering wheel of the Navigator and began driving off.

David stood in the parking lot for several minutes like a statue, eyes directed toward the space into which Kurt's vehicle disappeared. He'd been spiritually diminished by Kurt's presence, he'd been enraged by the failed backseat seduction he witnessed, and he'd been crushed by his inability to act in time for anything to have any relevance. Eventually the standing stone moved, turning toward the bar and re-entering.

He nudged his way through the crowd of drag-queens and other assorted patrons mobbing the bar, ordered another beer, and found a seat. He swallowed a gulp from his bottle and sat there, once again still: bottle in one hand, eyes into the space before him unfocused, and completely motionless.

David didn't know how long he sat there like a boulder, but he was shaken from his state when he heard a voice address him.

"Comrade Dave?"

"Earth to Dave?"

"Ground Control to Major Dave?"

Dave eventually looked up, his face pale and appearing rather sickly, mouth agape, and wearing an unsettling expression.

"Oh, Dave." It was Ricky, and he spoke sympathetically, sounding grave, face wearing an expression of urgency. "Are you okay?" Ricky sat beside Dave and put his arm around him, gently. Dave turned his head slowly to Ricky.

"Hey, Ricky. Yeah, I'm okay." Dave lifted his bottle and gulped. His beer was somewhat less-than-cold at this point. "That's a fucking lie, Ricky. I am so far from okay right now."

Ricky's expression was one of genuine concern. "Are you, like, sick or trashed or what?" Ricky paused, eyeing Dave fully, looking for evidence of anything obvious. He found none. Ricky's voice lowered in pitch and volume. "Are you messed-up over something?"

Dave nodded quickly, shallowly, finally shooting his eyes over to Ricky's. "Yeah, I ran into someone here tonight. Just seeing them fucked me up."

"Aw, man," Ricky's voice was sympathetic. "If you wanna talk, Dave, I'm all ears. Was it an ex-boyfriend or something?"

Dave laughed out of futility. "No. No, I've never even had a boyfriend. Not yet, at least. It was just some guy I used to know. Thought I might never see him again. Maybe I was hoping I'd never see him again."

"Did you like him or something? He break your heart?" Ricky was really hoping that Dave wouldn't start crying. In Ricky's mind, there were few things as painful to watch as a big guy with a broken heart; and, in so many ways, the old cliché was true: the bigger they came, the harder they did indeed fall.

"No, it was just me. He did nothing wrong, and I fucked with him."

"So he hates you or something?"

"No. And that makes it worse. So much worse. If he did hate me or fucking yell at me or something, I'd understand that. He tried to help me, though."

Ricky reached over and rubbed Dave's back briskly but not roughly. "Y'know, Dave, maybe you shouldn't question that. Maybe you should just accept that he's that kinda person. Avoid him if it gets to you that much, but don't put yourself through this."

Dave's eyes watered but never actually spilled tears. He nodded. "If I could do just one good thing for the guy, just one, I'd feel better, I think." Dave breathed loudly, almost a sigh. "It looked like him and the guy he came with had a fight or something when they left. Looked like maybe they broke up."

"Tell me something. Do you think you're likely to run into this guy again?"

"Nah. Not often, at least."

Ricky patted Dave's shoulder reassuringly. "Then, maybe you should just put it out of your mind until it happens again. Then work on maybe doing something nice for the guy. In the meantime, what can I do to help you out of your state of mind?"

Dave summoned a weak smile but a genuine half-laugh. He turned to address Ricky directly and gave him a genuine smile, though the traces of his earlier tragedy-mask were still visible in the uncertainty of his face.

"Buy you a beer, Dave?" Ricky saw a stunned expression overtake Dave's face at the offer, and he realized that Dave had misinterpreted his intentions. "You won't owe me anything but a beer next time we see each other."

Dave's expression calmed. "Sure, Ricky. Buy me a beer."

Ricky smiled back at Dave, and it was evident that Dave's mood was lifting: the presence of a sympathetic person helped immeasurably..

"Hey, Ricky?" Dave asked as the bartender placed a fresh bottle in front of Dave, "Do you know if Rod is going to be here tonight?"

"I don't. I know he hangs out here pretty often, but I don't think he's here every night. Fifty-fifty chance, maybe. Sometimes he does come later, and it'll be going on eleven soon." Ricky eyed the pool table, noticing that no one was playing. "You play pool, Comrade?"

"Yeah, I can play pool," Dave answered.

"Feel like playing? I'll find a couple of guys, we'll get a game going. Take your mind off of things."

"Yeah, I'm up for it."

After a few minutes, Ricky returned from the other side of the dancefloor with one very regular-looking guy and one enormously tall drag queen. The average guy was trim-built and dressed in a printed sweatshirt and jeans; the other guy was several inches taller than Dave, wearing a gold-metallic wig in a long-bob style, gold lipstick, purple eye-makeup, and a short lime-green miniskirt . They were introduced to Dave by Ricky as Wally and Gerry respectively.

Ricky lit and puffed a cigar which seemed almost ceremonial, and the four of them played a quick game of four-player eight-ball which lasted about twenty minutes. Wally seemed somewhat quiet; well, Dave was quiet himself, but not above making an occasional good-natured joking comment. Gerry was a little more talkative and had a raspy, nasal tone to his voice; and Dave was surprised at himself that he actually got a kick out of the image of a tall drag queen in a miniskirt playing pool so casually, bending over the table, risking indecent exposure to make his shots. Ricky was, as always, just Ricky, occasionally showing flashes of his obnoxious self, letting out the occasional "Whoop!" and slipping into his monkey-alter-ego which Dave had seen at his visit to Scandals the week prior.

When the game was nearly over, Rod did, in fact, arrive at the bar. Dave was glad to see him. He was the first person Dave spoke to at Scandals, and Dave felt like Rod was looking out for him to some extent. Dave felt that way about Ricky also, given the earlier events of the evening.

As the game ended, Dave took a seat next to Rod at the bar. Ricky, still puffing his cigar, sat on the other side of Dave. Dave looked at Rod. "Glad you showed up tonight, Rod."

"Thanks. Any particular reason?" Rod smiled and chuckled slightly.

"I had a bad night earlier." As Dave spoke, Ricky looked over Dave's shoulder at Rod and nodded. "Just seeing another friendly face is a good thing."

"What happened?" Rod asked Dave.

"Ran into someone I knew a while ago. Shook me up a little. Shook me up a lot, actually. Okay now, though. Ricky helped me out."

"Hey, guys," Ricky interrupted, "I'm outta here for the night." Ricky shook hands with Dave and Rod, giving them both a pat on their shoulders. "Take care guys. Feel better, Dave." He punctuated the last statement by throwing a wink in Dave's direction. Dave smiled at the gesture.

After Ricky had left, Dave smiled and leaned in toward Rod, asking quietly, "Is Ricky one of those guys you mentioned last time who would jump at the chance to get me in the sack?"

Rod smiled and snickered, looking forward, away from Dave. "Yeah, I think that's a given, but, hell, I would jump at that chance; but I know it's not gonna happen." Dave's face dropped a bit; Rod clarified. "Dave, we talked last time. I know I'm not what you're looking for. Even if I was what you were looking for, I still wouldn't, especially if you're as young as I suspect you are. I'm pretty sure Ricky's not what you're looking for. You'd be wise not to act out of desperation." Rod eyed the beer bottle in front of Dave suspiciously. "How many of those did you have?"

"Um, four or five?"

Rod's expression to one of alarm. "David, I know you're underage, okay. I know you probably feel pretty unaffected by five beers, but if you get pulled over on your way home, the police aren't going to feel the same way."

Dave's face sobered. "Yeah, you're right."

The two sat in silence at the bar for some minutes until Dave broke the silence. "Um, there were some younger guys here tonight. I thought about talking to one of them, uh, but I never actually got up the courage."

Rod smiled a small smile. "Um, guys your age who actually get up the courage to go to a place like this, they might not be so impressed with the truck-driver look."

"Yeah, I thought that myself, actually. The guy wasn't, like, super-dressed-up, but he had a kinda preppy appearance about him."

"Well, maybe just try being yourself." Rod nodded at Dave who nodded back with a slight smile. Rod spoke again. "Oh, and lose that baseball cap, or at least don't try to hide under it so much, Dave. People want to see who they're talking with."

Dave struck an intentionally-comical self-conscious expression and adjusted his hat so it wasn't so forward over his face. "That better, Rod?"

Rod laughed. "Yeah, better."

Dave reached for his phone to check the time and was stunned to see that it was nearly twelve-thirty. "Oh, shit, man. I gotta go, Rod."

"Okay, Dave. Be fucking careful out there."

"Uh- I'm okay. Thanks for hanging and talking with me."

"Later, Dave."

"Have a good night, Rod."

It was nearly one o'clock by the time David was pulling into his driveway. He slowed the truck down on his approach to minimize noise. He didn't receive any phone calls or text messages from his parents, so he was hoping that they were asleep and he'd be able to slip into the house undetected. As quietly as he could, David unlocked the back door and ascended the cellar steps to house's first floor. He gently turned the doorknob, intentionally avoiding the temptation to turn on the light when he heard his father's voice, stern and loud.

"Where were you and why didn't you call to tell us where you were?"

David was standing about two feet from his father and mother. There was no detectable trace of mirth on either face whatsoever.

"I was hanging out with some friends. I lost track of the time."

"What friends, and why do you smell like smoke?"

"Some of the guys from the team. They had a bonfire."

"Is that _cigar_ smoke?"

"Uh, yeah, a couple of them were smoking cigars. Tough-guy thing, I guess."

Paul's eyes narrowed as he moved closer to David. David's mother stood back and stared hard at David.

"You've been drinking. I can smell beer. _Don't do this again, David._ Your mother and I were worried sick, okay?"

David looked down at the floor, shamed. "I'm sorry, Dad, Sorry, Mom."

"Okay, David, here it goes. You've been doing really good lately. You're getting excellent grades, you're not getting into trouble. Your mother and I are very happy for that; and you seem like you're a lot happier than you were a year ago." Paul paused collecting his thoughts. "We're not going to ground you this time because you seem to be doing so well, but make this a one-time thing. From now on, when you go somewhere, we want to know where you're going and who you're going to be with before you leave; and, if you're going to be out later than ten o'clock on a school night, you're going to call us and let us know where you are and when you'll be home. We wouldn't be nearly as angry if you had just bothered to call and let us know where you were and when you'd be coming back. I am not happy that you've been drinking. You could have gotten into serious trouble." Paul exhaled loudly. "Now get to bed. You need to get up early for school."

David ascended the stairs to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He removed his jacket and shoes but otherwise flopped down onto his bed fully-clothed. He considered getting up and showering, but he decided that sleep was more important than ridding himself of the cigar odor at the moment; besides, he'd already been busted by his parents for being out late. In reality, it took so long for sleep to find David that it would have been just as well if he had showered.

The entire evening was replaying through his mind, well, as much as he could remember. He was still hazy on what happened after he spoke with Kurt, but watching Kurt argue with his boyfriend was clear. After that, time had no meaning until Ricky found him: David had no idea how much time he spent standing in the parking lot or sitting at the bar.

Awkward as his encounter with Kurt was, ridiculous as David felt his own behavior to have been during their brief exchange, David couldn't help but recalling Kurt himself in a very positive light. Despite the horrid treatment David dealt to Kurt just a year ago, Kurt was polite and thoughtful for the few sentences they spoke. Somehow, David trusted Kurt with part of him with which he could trust few others, if any; and he felt, truly, that Kurt would not betray that trust.

 

* * *

  

Sean was waiting for Gretchen at her locker between first and second period. She smiled her usual flirtatious smile at him when she saw him, but he exchanged with her a grave expression of urgency.

"Hey, Gretch."

Gretchen's smile melted to concern. "Hey, Sean. What's up?"

"Just left my Calc class. Have you seen Dave today? He looks like a fucking mess. He smells like he'd been out all night drinking. I think he nodded off a couple of times in class."

"Did you talk to him at all?" Gretchen replied, not appearing terribly surprised but sympathetic nonetheless.

"Just, like 'hello'. He doesn't say anything anymore, nothing beyond that, at least. He was like this one day last week, but he looks even worse today. Last week, I tried to ask what was wrong, but he wouldn't talk. Didn't even try today."

"Y'know, he doesn't talk to me beyond saying 'hello' either. I can try to talk to him, but he'll probably give me the same treatment he's giving you."

"What, you mean, given the way we've just fallen out of his favor?" Sean sounded bitter.

"I see him in the halls and in the library. I can't remember the last time I saw him at lunch. He's not hanging with _anybody_. He's _always_ by himself. It looks like he's shut everyone out, and, yeah, I like Dave, I like Dave a lot; but until he actually starts talking with someone, I don't know what anyone can do." Gretchen spoke like she'd been through this before and knew the drill. "Maybe he feels he needs to trust someone. A month ago, when we were hanging out regularly, I felt we were that close. We had a lot of fun together, and he didn't have a problem opening up. He's shut all of that down now. I don't know why. I can't help him until he starts talking. He might not even need help." Gretchen rolled her eyes upon a realization. "Gawd, was that only a month ago? It seems like a year or something. You're right, Sean. Something must be up with him."

 

* * *

 

Dave was glad to return home after the school day. It was still early enough before dinner that he could take a nap for a while: he desperately craved sleep. He really should shower also, he thought to himself; the remainder of the bar-scent which hung in his clothing and stuck to his skin would just serve as a reminder of his parents of his less-than-acceptable behavior the night before.

"David," his mother called sharply from the family room, "come look at this."

He shuffled himself over to the family room. There on the television was a campaign ad for the upcoming congressional election.

"They've been running this ad all the time. Is that cheerleader the girl you took to the prom last year?"

"Yes, Mom, that's her," David answered dully.

"They're saying she's a lesbian, and they're suggesting that her coach, that Sue Sylvester who's running for the congressional seat, is one also. Is this why you wanted us to transfer you out of McKinley?"

"Uh, um, no, Mom."

"You had trouble with that other boy who was gay. What is going on at McKinley? Why so much gay activity there?"

"Mom, just so you know, I don't have a problem with any of that any more. Kurt and me? We made our peace. We're actually kinda friendly now. That Santana girl, the cheerleader I took to prom? She wanted to go to prom, and I agreed to take her, simple as that. We weren't going out or anything. She wasn't, like, my girlfriend. Prom was just a popularity thing with her." David paused, not really wanting to continue the conversation. His tone softened when he spoke again. "I'm gonna take my stuff upstairs and maybe catch a nap before dinner if that's alright with you, Mom."

She looked at David sympathetically, assuming correctly that he must be tired. "Sure, David. Just be back down by six for dinner."

Within minutes, David was showered and in fresh clothing, reclining on his bed and dozing into a pleasant sleep. He was awake and back downstairs by five-thirty, helping his mom set the table for dinner.

David and his parents sat down to dinner, quiet and relaxed. Last night's melodrama a thing of the past.

"So, David," his mother addressed, "is that Sue Sylvester a lesbian?"

David appeared uncomfortable by the question. "Mom, I really don't know. I never knew her well, and, well, that's really none of our business, right?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

Paul interjected. "What's this all about, Lorraine?"

"The congressional election," Lorraine spoke. "Reggie Salazar is running that ad about the lesbian cheerleader, implying that Sue Sylvester, the McKinley cheerleading coach, is gay also."

David lowered his head and rolled his eyes, made visibly anxious by the conversation.

"Just sounds like some sick smear tactic," Paul commented.

"Oh, I'm sure Salazar will have Uncle Jim's and Grampa's vote just for that ad alone," David blurted out, realizing it might have been a mistake.

"What do you mean by _that_ ," David's mother asked.

"They're really hateful people, Mom."

"That's my brother and my father, David," Lorraine appeared somewhat disturbed. "You used to love to go fishing with your Uncle Jim."

"Mom, I was a little kid back then, and I didn't realize what a hateful guy he was. Now, I'm older, I know the rhetoric, and it kinda turns me off."

"David," Lorraine began, "I understand that it's hard sometimes, but all families deal with this kind of thing."

"Well," David answered his mother calmly but firmly, "I might just not want to deal with it." David's gaze alternated between both his parents as he spoke. "I dealt with some serious hate issues the last two years, but I overcame that. It was messing me up, and now I'm a lot better. I think you'll both agree." His parents both nodded their heads, concurring. "The way Uncle Jim and Grampa talk, it's, like, toxic or something. I really have no use for that right now."

"Well," Lorraine continued, "they'll both be here with your cousins and Grandma for Thanksgiving dinner."

Paul exhaled loudly, voicing his displeasure as silently as he could: obviously he didn't care much for his brother-in-law and father-in-law. David mumbled sarcastically, " _That_ should be fun."

Lorraine suggested, "Why don't you invite that Gretchen over for Thanksgiving dinner?"

David sunk his head lower, rolling his eyes. "I haven't really been hanging with her much lately."

"Oh," Lorraine asked, "Did you two break up?"

"Mom, we were never, like, 'dating', we're just friends."

"Is she a lesbian too?" Lorraine asked innocently.

_"Mom!"_

David's eyes widened and he glared at his mother.

"Just asking," Lorraine commented mildly, the question still an innocent one in her mind. "Does she have another boyfriend?"

At this point, Paul appeared to be as uncomfortable as David was.

"Mom, I really don't know. I haven't talked with her much or seen her much lately."

"Lorraine," Paul interjected, "David can decide for himself who he wants to pal-around with, really."

David turned to his father and smiled slightly, somewhat relieved, feeling that his dad rescued him from his mother's questions.

Paul reached over and patted David's shoulder and added, "...just so long as he doesn't stay out too late at night and lets us know where he is and stays out of trouble."

David smiled a little wider. "Yeah, still sorry about that, Dad."

 

* * *

 

David left his first-period Calculus class and stopped at his locker on his way to the library for his free-study period. He opened his locker to find a folded piece of notebook paper had been slipped into one of the ventilation slots and was wedged there. He assumed it to be a note. He slipped it into his shirt pocket and exchanged some books and notebooks for some others.

Taking a seat at one of the single-person isolation desks in the back corner of the library, he retrieved the folded notebook page from his pocket and unfolded it. He recognized Gretchen's handwriting immediately.

_Hey Dave,_

_I don't know what's been up with you lately, but Sean is a little worried and I'm kind of confused. We were all such good friends for a while, or so it seemed, and I really miss hanging out with you. We had a lot of fun together, and I honestly felt that you and me bonded on a level deeper than that._  
 _If it's something that one of us did or said, I think you'd have said something about it because you were never shy of that kind of stuff before. From what I can see, you're not hanging around with anyone these days, at least no one here at the school. You disappear during the lunch periods, and you're always by yourself._  
 _Sean says that he thinks you've been staying out late and maybe drinking or something. I've had so little contact with you that I can't even have that much of an opinion._  
 _You and me hit it off so well for a while. We weren't, like, boyfriend-girlfriend or anything, but we had a real connection. I miss that. I know how people go in and out of friendships, but it all happened so fast._  
 _I guess all I'm saying is that I (we, really) miss you. I also understand if you have other friends and other things going on and we're not (or can't be) part of that. Just know that you can talk to me or Sean at any time. The door's open.  
_ _I really hope that you're okay, Dave. We may not be very close like we were a month ago, but if anything really bad happened to you, I'd be devastated. I mean that._

_Your friend,  
_ _Gretchen_

The note didn't go into great detail, but it made Dave's eyes cloud with tears. He carefully refolded it and slid it back into his shirt pocket. He reached for his Physics notebook when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"Karofsky."

Dave turned to see Nick standing behind him. "Hey, Nick." Dave spoke politely, if unenthusiastically. "What's up?"

"So, like, you're not hanging with that Gretchen chick any more or her friends, right?"

"Yeah, I don't hang with them much," Dave answered. "They're still my friends, though."

Nick smirked. "Well, then, you wanna hang out with _us_ sometime? Be one of the _guys_ again?"

Dave had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes disrespectfully. "Honestly, Nick, it depends on what you're doing. If you wanna get together after school or on a weekend and pick up a game of football at the park, I'm definitely in. If you wanna do the strip-club thing or swap detailed stories about how often and far you get down your girlfriends' pants, that's not really my thing."

Nick's smirk fell a little. "You're weird, Karofsky."

"And I'm alright with that," Dave answered. "I won't apologize for who I am."

 

* * *

 

Gretchen arrived at her locker at the end of the day to find a folded piece of notebook paper wedged between the slots of her locker. Being that it was the end of the day, there were very few people around. She unfolded the note and read it.

_Hey Gretchen,_

_Thanks for your note and your concern. I'm doing okay. I still consider you and Sean and the rest of the crowd to be my friends, but I need some time to sort some things out. I hope that someday we can regroup and, hopefully, I'll be able to talk about some things. For now, though, I just need to work some things out by myself. It was nothing that you or Sean or any of the others did or said._

_Thanks.  
_ _Dave_

 

* * *

 

Sean was taken aback when he heard an unfamilar voice behind him as he reached into his locker.

"Hey, kid."

Sean turned to see the tall guy from the football team. He'd never been introduced, but he knew the guy's name was Nick. "Hey," Sean replied, careful and measured, "what can I do for you?"

"You're friends with Karofsky, right?"

"Yeah," Sean replied. "We don't hang out or anything, but we're friends."

"So," Nick began slowly, "what do you know about why Karofsky transferred to here from McKinley?"

Sean's expression turned baffled. "I asked him about it once. He just said that he had problems with some of the people there. Wanted to start with a 'clean slate' somewhere else."

"That's it?"

"That's all he told me, honestly, man."

Nick walked away.

Sean stood at his locker, retrieving his books in peace, but was startled by Gretchen's voice coming out of the relative silence.

"What did the blonde cro magnon man want?"

Sean's start became a laugh. "He was asking about Dave, of all things."

"Weird," Gretchen opined. "I gave Dave a note today and got one back. Said that he just needs some time by himself. No need to question that."

 

* * *

 

David had grown to increasingly dislike family holidays in the recent few years. The evening after the Thanksgiving Day dinner found him up in his room by himself while he could hear the distant sounds of a houseful of relatives downstairs. He felt like his brain was simmering on the verge of a boil: a quiet internal anger.

He dealt with watching some of the parades and the football games with the family in relative peace. He actually enjoyed it. The dinner conversations, though, made him lose his appetite; and he just couldn't be around his younger cousins, he found.

David heard a quiet knock on his bedroom door. "Come in."

The door opened, and his mother entered the room.

"David," his mother began gently, "what's wrong?"

"Mom, I knew this was going to be a difficult thing for me. I just don't want to get along with those people. I know they're family, but that doesn't mean that the way they think doesn't bother me, and I can't just sit back and pretend that it I'm alright with it."

David sat on his bed. His mother sat gently beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You hardly ate anything."

"I didn't feel much like eating. I heard Grampa and Jim verbally bash the president over the repeal of don't-ask-don't-tell, saying that it signalled the 'catastrophic destruction of western civilization'. I don't want that kind of hate in my life. I tried to stay in the family room with the kids when I heard Brandi call a guy on the TV a 'dirty faggot'. Mom, she's eight years old! All I could think of was that Uncle Jim was teaching his kids to be dangerously hateful. It almost made me sick." David looked pained and somber.

"David, I can't do anything about the way they think and what they're teaching their kids," Lorraine said, trying to get David to relax somewhat. "But, I admire and respect you for having your own opinion. I don't think like they do, but I was brought up in that environment. It took me a long time to lose that mindset, but they _are_ my family."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." David let out a tired-sounding breath.

"I wish you could come back downstairs because _you're_ my family too," Lorraine pleaded, "but I'll respect your decision to stay away if it makes you too uncomfortable."

"That's how I need it, mom. If I go back down there, I'll just start yellin'."

Lorraine nodded and rubbed David's shoulder before she stood and left him alone in his bedroom as she left to rejoin the rest of the family downstairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced film: "Casablanca" (1942)
> 
> Referenced song: "It's Been a While" by Staind


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 8,900

**Chapter 23**

 

**Thursday March 15**

Rupert had arrived about fifteen minutes early, partially by design and partially because the traffic had been light this particular morning. He had been informed of Paul's business trip and wanted to get an early start. Paul had already loaded his suitcase in the car in preparation for his drive to the airport and was going through his briefcase, making sure he had the necessary paperwork. David was reviewing the previous day's lessons and assignments when he heard the doorbell sound.

"Got it, Dad," David called across the house to Paul as he opened the door for Rupert.

"Good morning, Dave."

"Hey, Rupert," David greeted, smiling somewhat. "You know, you don't need to wait for someone to let you in. I've told you that before; you can just walk in."

"Yeah, I know," Rupert replied, "I feel kinda odd doing that, though."

Rupert and David proceeded to the dining room where David had his textbooks located and laptop set up. Paul entered the dining room shortly after.

"Okay gentlemen," Paul arrived in the dining room and said, addressing Rupert and David, "I'll be leaving for the airport now; my flight is scheduled at nine-forty-five."

"Got everything, Dad?"

"Yeah, I have double-checked everything. If I'm forgetting something, it's either not important or it's going to stay here at this point."

Both David and Paul laughed at Paul's comment.

"Where are you going again?" Rupert asked.

"Baltimore. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

Paul reached his hand out to Rupert and the two men shook. "I guess I'll see you Monday morning, Rupert."

"Have a good trip, Paul. See you next week."

David walked with his dad into the kitchen to the door that leads to the basement; the two men faced each other.

"There's cash in the top drawer of my dresser for dinner tonight and if you want to order out for lunch for you and Rupert today and tomorrow."

"Thanks Dad, but I can see that Rupert brought his lunch as usual, but I'll mention it for tomorrow. Is it okay if I ask Sean over for dinner also? I haven't really spoken to him much since last week."

"Sure, David, no problem with that. I should be home between three and four tomorrow unless my return flight gets delayed or something."

David nodded in response and smiled a small but genuine smile.

Paul looked at David and thought that, only a few weeks ago, he didn't want David out of his sight for more than a few hours; that he was about to be away for more than a day spoke of David's progress, and Paul was incredibly proud of David for this. Paul smiled and reached out his arms. "C'mere, you! I wanna hug you before I leave."

David wrapped his arms around Paul and laughed a quiet, genuinely happy laugh. "Thanks, Dad. Have a good trip. Don't work too hard."

After about a half-minute, David and Paul unlocked their embrace. "These business trips are so lame, David: a lotta sitting around and doing nothing for hours and pretending to be friendly with the people you're scheduled to meet, many of which are socially repulsive."

David and his father both shared a hearty laugh at the comment. "Be good! I'll be back soon! Have a good time with your friends tonight!"

"Thanks, Dad. I will."

"And as always, David, if need to talk or need anything at all, do not hesitate to call me, alright?"

David smiled and nodded. "Definitely, Dad."

With that, Paul patted David's shoulder and exited from the kitchen into the basement.

 

* * *

 

Sean arrived at David's house at around three-thirty. As suggested by Rupert, Sean and David talked about the day-to-day activities in the various classes and in-class discussions for which David was not present. After about an hour of Sean's recapping the points which the various teachers were emphasizing in the classes, their discussion became more informal, and the two talked about the more social aspects of the school: Gretchen, Johnno, Howie, the rest of their friends, and other general things not specifically related to David's schoolwork.

Kurt arrived at five o'clock; he was dressed very casually and carrying two overnight bags. The three young men greeted each other. Kurt, seemingly always affectedly mannered seemed markedly relaxed this evening: something David had not yet seen, but something David welcomed nonetheless.

David began verbally listing the dinner options available to them. "Well, there's the pizza place we had food from last week, there's that new deli-type restaurant, there's Chinese, there're a couple of other places that have take-out. Any idea what you two might be in the mood for?"

Sean and Kurt looked back-and-forth and to David who appeared expectant of an answer. "Is there anything in particular you'd like for dinner, David?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, what are _you_ in the mood for, Dave?" Sean seconded.

David smiled, laughing slightly. "You two are my guests; I think you should pick."

"How about this, David," Kurt began. "You've told me you've been eating a lot of takeout lately. Is there anything you _don't_ want for dinner?"

"Yeah," David's answer was almost immediate. "Chinese. My dad and I both love Chinese, but it got old fast."

"Well, just about anything gets old when you've had too much of it," Sean added. "What haven't you had in, like, a long time, Dave?"

David rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, squinted, raised an eyebrow, and replied. "It's been a long time since I've had a really killer burger. Not a fast-food burger, but a serious, seriously heavy, two-fisted burger." David's face was nearly devious as he grinned.

Kurt grinned at David's expression. "Well, I'm sure we can locate a restaurant that has a variety of food including something that fits that description, David. The look on your face is just priceless. I'd hate the owner of that expression to have a disappointing dinner."

David broke into a genuine smile and laugh. "But can we find one that delivers?"

Sean and Kurt looked to David and back-and-forth. "If they don't deliver, we'll just go out, get the food, and come back and eat here," Kurt offered.

David's smile diminished slightly. Kurt suspected that, save for one visit to a psychiatrist, David had not been significantly away from this house since his return from the hospital; and, given David's expression, leaving the house was not an idea with which David was completely comfortable. Kurt suspected that might be the case; this sold Kurt on the idea if, for no other reason, it would provide at least some change of scenery which, no matter how brief, he thought, could only benefit David.

David read the expression on Kurt's face and understood it as part-challenge, part plea. Kurt was playing some subversive psychology here: David was onto it, mentally accepted and signalled as much by allowing his smile to return. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the challenge he was accepting or the plea which he didn't want to decline. In reality (and in David's mind), it was probably some of each.

Sean looked between the two of them, slightly confused, wondering if the exchange was taking longer than it should or if it was just his hunger causing the decision-process delay to bother him. "So, do either of you have any ideas? I'm freaking hungry, guys."

"There's that Irish pub that has a reputation for really good sandwiches and burgers," David suggested. "I can pull their menu up on the laptop, and we can order from there."

The three of them huddled around the screen, scanning the menu and making choices. They phoned their order in to the restaurant and prepared to leave. Sean excused himself to the bathroom before they left and David spoke quietly to Kurt.

"Your sneaky way of getting me out of this house?" David smiled, though it was an unsure smile.

Kurt smiled back, a more confident, hopeful smile than David's. "Guilty. But I'm glad that you're going along with it."

David nodded, agreeably as Sean exited the bathroom and rejoined them by the front door.

"I'm driving," Kurt mentioned casually, hoisting his keyring.

"I call shotgun," David barked loudly and wide-eyed causing Kurt to laugh and Sean to shake his head, smiling.

The three took their places in Kurt's Navigator, and Kurt backed down the driveway and into the street. Kurt's mix-CD was playing at a reasonable volume, but he switched the music to a typical top-forty radio station, guessing that neither David nor Sean would prefer to hear Kurt's personal collection of show-tunes and diva-music favorites over the radio. Though dusk was nearing, it was still fairly light outside. Kurt turned his gaze to David occasionally, checking his face for signs of anxiety. He saw none: David appeared calm and interested, even quietly eager. In the darkening light, he could see David's hands as they rested, folded in front of him. He'd never really noticed before, but it occurred to him that David had very attractive hands. They were large, but they were nicely-shaped and un-abused.

Kurt kept his attention, however, primarily on the road; and soon enough, the Navigator pulled into the parking lot of the small strip mall where McCafferey's Irish Pub was located. Kurt parked, and the three of them exited the car. David's movements were measured as he climbed out of the car, swivelling his head, looking around; but he didn't appear awkward, and Kurt could detect no real sign of hesitancy. They were in the building for less than five minutes. David paid the girl at the register as Kurt and Sean collected the three bags containing the various food items which they ordered.

The three settled back into the car for the ride back to David's house. David announced, with some confidence, "I made sure we had some diet cola around for you, Kurt."

Kurt laughed and shot his glance over to David for a second. "You're quite the host, David."

Once back at David's house, David dispensed a mug of root beer for Sean (Sean was finally able to convince David that frosting the mug was not necessary) and a diet cola for Kurt; David poured iced tea from a pitcher for himself.

"We wanna eat up here in the dining room or down in the gameroom?" David asked the other two.

Kurt shot quick glances between Sean and David for a few seconds before he and Sean said exactly simultaneously, "Here!" This was followed by some laughter as the three of them attacked the bags of food.

Kurt ordered a garden salad which was generously-sized and a reuben sandwich; Sean's order was a Philly steak sandwich and fries; David was having a large hamburger dressed with bacon, bleu cheese, and just about anything else that the bun could conceivably contain and, of course, fries also.

"Dude, that burger is fuckin' ginormous," Sean commented between bites of his sandwich.

Kurt eyed David's burger, chuckling at the bluntness of Sean's remark between forkfuls of his salad. "Actually," Kurt contributed, "my sandwich is huge, and I think half of it will be saved for my lunch for tomorrow."

David's burger appeared potentially messy, downright explosive, but he was doing an impressive job of holding it together as he ate it. "This is exactly what I had my heart set on. You guys are geniuses."

"It does look really good, David, but, personally, I think I'd be eating that with a knife and fork," Kurt observed. "It's impressive how you're keeping that from falling to pieces."

David looked at Kurt, smiling and chuckling. "Yeah, but I can't put it down or it _will_ fall apart, so I'm kind-of at its mercy right now."

"You _do_ realize, Dave" Sean interjected, "that if Gretchen were here right now, she'd be, like, tickling you mercilessly just to watch you lose control of that sandwich."

"Yeah, I _know_ ," David punctuated with a nod before mentally engineering the best approach to his next bite.

Kurt commented, "I think I must meet this Gretchen person someday."

The three finished their dinners and cleared the table. Sean gathered his notebooks and slid them into his bookbag before leaving. David and Kurt walked Sean to the door before he left.

"Hey Dave, be sure to thank your dad for dinner for me."

"No problem, Sean. Thanks for stopping by, and I'll talk to you soon."

"Later, Kurt. Nice seeing ya. Later, Dave. Thanks for dinner."

"Bye, Sean."

David and Kurt stood by the front door and watched until Sean was in his car and on the road. David was rinsing off some dishes in the sink while Kurt noticed the background image on David's laptop. "David? What's this a picture of?"

It was an image of a symmetrical design: stacked curves of increasing size in purple colors with bright triangular shapes separated by tiny rectangles in an alternating pattern like bricks embedded within the curves. It was a bold design which caught Kurt's attention. He thought perhaps it was a photograph of an antique ornament or jewelry of some sort.

"It's a detail of the top of the Chrysler Building in New York. It was taken at dusk, just as the lights were turned on."

"That's a buildi...? Oh, wait. Yes, I can see a person standing in one of the windows."

"It's a pretty famous building, and you'd probably recognize it if you saw the whole thing, not just a detail of it," David explained.

"Why do you have it on your computer like that, David?"

"Because I like the design. Gretchen kinda got me to appreciate art. Well, _some_ art. I must have spent, I swear, like three hours one night looking at pictures of art deco stuff on the computer." David walked over to the computer and brought up an image folder labeled simply "deco". "I saved a bunch of the images, the ones which appealed to me the most, I guess."

Kurt clicked through the images. Some were architectural designs; some were studio photographs with models; some were paintings and sculptures; some were strange-looking old pieces of furniture. "I never would have guessed, David."

"Guessed what?"

"That you appreciated things like this."

"I wouldn't have guessed it a year ago either." David smiled as he watched Kurt click from image to image to image, their faces illuminated by the light from the screen. "I've looked at some other types of art also, but this is the one that I like the most."

Kurt clicked to the next photo. "Now, what is that a picture of?"

"That is a camera lens with a deco design on the metal casing part. They used deco designs on all kinds of functional things: door knobs, radios, clothing, flatware."

"What is it about art deco that appeals to you over other types of art?"

David shrugged slightly and shook his head. "I guess I like the bold designs. I think the symmetry appeals to me also, although a lot of it is asymmetrical too. I don't know. I just like it."

"It's very masculine when I think about it," Kurt offered.

"Yeah, even the photographs of women and men models. They're high-contrast. They're reduced to being design elements."

Kurt smiled, silently recognizing and appreciating this side of David's personality.

David spoke slightly louder, possibly trying to break the quiet somewhat; perhaps he wanted to lessen the significance of his fondness for art. "Yeah, I had a lot of free time on my hands over the last few months. Maybe nerded-out on a few things." David backed away from the table and moved toward the entryway.

"It's interesting stuff, David," Kurt spoke softly, still clicking through the images, interested.

"Oh, yeah, um, so your bags are still by the hallway," David reminded. "You get the guest room across the hall from my paren...er...my _dad's_ bedroom." David pointed toward the hallway; Kurt looked up from the monitor.

"It's pretty early still, David. I'm not tired."

"Um, but," David spoke clumsily, "I didn't know if you maybe wanted me to show you where you'd be sleeping."

"You can do that later," Kurt spoke quickly, then pausing. "Or now. Whichever you like." Kurt looked up from the screen and looked at David standing by the entryway to the living room.

"Do you want to go down to the gameroom? Watch TV or something? Probably more comfortable than the dining room." David shrugged.

"Sure."

"Do you want a refill on your cola before we go down there? Or coffee maybe?"

"Oh, no. It will be difficult enough for me to fall asleep in an unfamiliar environment. No coffee, definitely. A glass of water would be good."

"Okay. If you wanna go downstairs to the gameroom, I'll be down in a minute."

Kurt, now familiar enough with the house, descended the short set of stairs to the gameroom and sat on one far side of the couch. David was down in the room in less than a minute and sat on a recliner near the corner of the couch where Kurt had placed himself. He was holding a glass of water, which he handed to Kurt, and a glass of iced tea for himself.

"You're dressed really kinda casual today," David observed.

"Well, it's what I wore to school today. I've been keeping it low-key lately: I guess just the mood I've been in." Kurt looked down at his looser-than-usual jeans and casual cranberry-colored button-down shirt which he left untucked and wore over a burnt-orange T-shirt. Even the colors were tamer than usual for Kurt. "I've even been doing this softer thing with my hair. It's certainly less trouble in the mornings."

"Are you, like, bummed-out about something?" David asked, surprised and somewhat concerned.

"No. I can't figure out if I'm just lazy or if I'm finding some different side of myself."

"Well, it looks good." David looked away, as if he was shy about complimenting Kurt outright, but added, "It's kinda cool to see a casual side of you like that."

"So, I don't look like an unmade bed?" Kurt spoke low and affectedly under his breath.

David smiled. "Actually, it makes you look really approachable."

Kurt smiled. "You mean I wouldn't have been approachable before, the way I'd normally dress?"

David shrugged and bounced his head from side-to-side, unsure of how to phrase how exactly he'd reply. "You look softer or softer-edged or something. I mean, if you had a reason to be dressed really great, I'm sure you'd find some amazing look for yourself, for that exact occasion, that was, like, dressy and fashionable and original, and I'm sure your hair would be, like, styled and perfect." David faced away again. "But you look good when you relax it like this also."

Kurt smiled. "I always used to think that every day was an opportunity to be boldly fashionable in a new and daring way. In fact, I'm sure I said it often enough also." Kurt sat up straighter. "Some guys look good in casual pants and wrinkled shirts. It's kinda good to know that you think I can pull that off."

David looked away again, shaking his head. "I don't know crap about fashion except when something catches my eye, so you probably shouldn't pay any attention to what I say about that subject."

"Okay, so you just complimented me and then negated the whole thing?"

"I guess that's exactly what I did."

"And your hair's shaggier than I can ever remember seeing it," Kurt observed.

"Well, yeah, remember, I haven't really gone anywhere in a few weeks until this afternoon," David smirked. "It gets a little nappy when it gets some length to it, but Gretchen was able to get it to look good when we went to that Homecoming dance. I think it was actually longer then than it is now. Looks bad, doesn't it?"

Kurt grimaced and shook his head. "No, looks okay. Could use trimmed-up a little, but it looks okay."

"So, what's going on at McKinley?"

"Pretty-much the same as it's been for a while. Oh, Quinn Fabray will be coming back soon, I heard."

"Have you seen her since the accident?"

"Yes, actually about a week ago when she first started getting visitors. A group of us went to see her."

"How is she?" David sounded hesitant but concerned.

Kurt looked downward and shrugged. "She's in a wheelchair. They are saying that she could have a full recovery, but the possibility is always there that she won't."

"Uh, that's sad." David shook his head.

"She hasn't come back to school yet, but she will soon, they say."

David nodded.

"Did you want to see what was on the TV?" Kurt asked, eyeing the remote control.

David gave a sarcastic smirk. " _This_ should be interesting."

"What do you mean?" Kurt smiled back, laughing somewhat.

"Finding something that both you and I want to watch should be a challenge," David said quietly through a laugh while picking the remote up from the coffee table and switching on the television.

Kurt was laughing also. He knew how true the comment was.

David scratched his head while operating the on-screen channel guide. "I'm guessing that we're not going to be watching the classic sports channel."

Kurt laughed at the comment, but the laugh was brief as it conjured the image of Blaine and the thought that he'd intentionally not told David that he and Blaine had parted.

David, still risible, didn't notice Kurt's lapse in mirth. "I gotta be honest, Kurt. I don't watch much TV at all these days; and when I do, it's pretty dumb."

That made Kurt laugh again. "Dumb like what?"

"Oh, like surfing channels at two AM and winding up watching reruns of stuff like _Cops_ or _Jackass_. Or the classic sports channel."

More laughter from Kurt, Blaine far from his mind this time. "Well, maybe we have a _lack_ of television in common, then, David."

"I mean I _do_ watch sports, but, if it's not teams or games that I care about, I might have it on as background noise. What's _your_ guilty television pleasure?"

"Any awards show, especially the red carpet, _America's Next Top Model_ , _Project Runway_ , things like that."

"Yeah, that's a television wasteland."

"What do you mean by _that_?" Kurt asked sharply, sounding offended in an exaggerated way.

"It's not like either one of us is watching high-minded stuff that's gonna change the world or give us some grand insight to the human condition or something."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Okay, I guess this is the part where you give me some subtle, good-natured dressing-down because you're fully aware of the frivolity of your concerns whereas I have some false impression that mine actually mean something."

David shot Kurt a puzzled expression and stopped working the remote. "Do I really do that?"

Kurt looked down, somewhat embarrassed. "Not in so many words, but, yes, you have made me feel that way."

"Oh jeeze," David began softly. "I don't want to make _anyone_ feel bad like that. I'd apologize to you, but you told me to stop doing that."

That prompted a quiet laugh from Kurt. "Don't worry about it, David." Kurt paused and looked up at David. "You know, you get me to think sometimes. I'm pretty stubborn. That's not an easy thing to do exactly."

David smiled, crooked but genuine. "Back to the channel guide, I guess, so we can see what we're not going to watch."

"That's appropriate. Or we could just talk. We're pretty good at that."

"Yeah, we are. Who'd have thought that two guys who can't even find anything on the TV that they both want to watch can actually have some pretty great conversations?"

"Two guys with the kind of history that we've had," Kurt added.

David felt a needle of quilt. He always did when he was reminded of his past treatment of Kurt.

"Do you ever watch _RuPaul's Drag Race_?" Kurt asked.

"Uh, no. Did I ever tell you about the time I played pool at Scandals with a guy in a gold metallic wig and a lime-green miniskirt?"

"You did not!" Kurt nearly shrieked, laughing.

"I did. I swear it." David, laughing put his hand in the air as if being sworn-in while working the remote control with his other hand.

"David, you've certainly come a long way," Kurt remarked.

David's smile faded somewhat. "Yeah. You started me out, and I ran with it. I still have a way to go yet, though."

Kurt was no longer laughing but taking in David's expression.

"Hey," David stopped searching the listings. " _Bride of Frankenstein_ is going to be on in twenty minutes."

"Monster movies? _Really, David?_ "

"Well, it was directed by a gay man who was a well-respected director of his time; and _Bride of Frankenstein_ is generally considered to be his masterpiece." David informed.

Kurt cocked his head, curious of the authoritative-sounding comment. "Okay, David, how is it that you know all of that."

"Remember I told you last summer that I started to educate myself, as you yourself suggested that I needed to be _educated_?" Kurt nodded in response and David continued. "Well I watched some gay-themed movies last summer. One of them was about James Whale, the guy who directed _Bride of Frankenstein_. Gandalf played James Whale and Brendan Fraser was his young gardener."

"Was it a good movie?" Kurt asked, suddenly more interested.

"Yeah, it was one of the better gay-themed movies I watched. Some of them were pretty bad. There was this one with Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix that was trippy: I dug that one. It had a Shakespearean thing going on."

"You like Shakespeare, David?" Kurt asked, appearing surprised, and not for the first time tonight.

"Yeah, I kinda do," David admitted looking somewhat embarrassed. "From the first time I read his stuff back in junior high, before I was all jock-conscious and everything, I liked his stuff."

"You look guilty, David," Kurt prodded with a curious grin. "Is it because you're ashamed that you like Shakespeare?"

"No, it's because I'd never admit to anyone that I liked Shakespeare when I was too concerned with being the quintessential jock guy." David caught the smug expression on Kurt's face and added, "And I think you _knew_ that was going to be my answer."

Kurt laughed, and David added while nodding and smirking, "That's okay, torture me with my past, I know I have it coming."

"So," David asked, "are we watching this movie then?"

"Sure," Kurt answered, though he sounded less than perfectly enthusiastic, "It will be a new experience for both of us."

"Cool," David stood and picked up his empty glass. "Do you want anything to drink or a refill on your water? You want me to make popcorn or anything before the movie starts?"

"No more food, really, I'm still full from dinner," Kurt said. "But it was a really good dinner."

"I'm going up to refill my iced tea."

"Well, then, I'll go up with you and get another glass of water," Kurt said while standing up.

"I'll get it for you."

"No," Kurt insisted, "You can show me the guest room while I'm up there."

"Yeah, good idea."

Kurt picked up his overnight bags from the place where he left them in the entryway, followed David to the guest room, and left his bags there. From there, the two of them went to the kitchen, and David refilled his iced tea and Kurt's water. A few minutes later, the two were back in the gameroom and the movie was about to begin. They both sat on the couch, facing the television. Kurt was comfortably at a far side, nestling himself into the corner; and David, though not at the opposite side exactly, was some distance from the place where Kurt was seated.

Before the movie started, a friendly-appearing white-haired man appeared on the screen to give an introduction of-sorts and relate some trivial details, speaking about the movie being a sequel to _Frankenstein_ and having a larger-than-usual budget for its time: things David and Kurt found slightly interesting but ultimately forgettable. The film itself was a different matter.

The opening credits were heralded by typical discordant, monster movie music as the title flashed across the screen; but Kurt was surprised to hear the music segue to a lush, romantic-sounding, impressionistic theme which built to a triumphant-sounding fanfare. Both watchers were thrown by the opening scene: a castle on a stormy night inhabited by three elegantly-dressed literary figures: Percy Shelley, his wife Mary, and the brash Lord Byron (proclaiming himself "the world's greatest sinner") were intelligently debating the audacity of Mary's original novel. Kurt was impressed by the setting and the costumes; David wondered if this type of scene was commonplace in nineteen-thirties cinema. As the camera pulled toward Mary's elegant face, the story-proper began. It seemed for a while that the film would hold few surprises for the two viewers until it became apparent that either things that audiences found frightening in the mid-thirties were hilarious by today's standards or this movie was intended to be a wicked parody for those perceptive enough to catch the subversive streak.

Kurt wasn't exactly sure when it happened, but at some point the creature became something other than a frightening brute: he became a pitiful, isolated being, rejected by his creator and feared by the public. The monster was portrayed as sympathetic and was unfairly demonized by frenzied mob after frenzied mob, finally finding a friend in a blind hermit who did not fear and could not judge the monster for his lack of sight. Finally the creature became a pawn in a web of kidnapping and blackmail in order to force the repentant young doctor into creating a mate for him. Ultimately rejected by his intended companion, the heartbroken creature causes the destruction of the laboratory, a grand act of high-theater suicide, a bleak-but-satiric monster-movie _götterdämmerung_ of-sorts, intoning three words: "We belong dead."

Kurt might have been impressed by the film's aesthetic design: the beautiful mid-thirties costume styles of the young doctor's beautiful young bride; the older, markedly more malevolent doctor portrayed as an absolute queen of a man, complete with sarcastic deliveries, mincing mannerisms, and flamboyant gestures (and the man seemed to love weddings); the appearance of the titular created-bride herself with her fashionable shoulderpads, Egyptian-inspired makeup and hair (an iconic image which he'd seen copied dozens of times), and her attire which simultaneously resembled a bridal-gown and a funeral shroud. Kurt, under any other circumstances would have been impressed by these things, but his attention was repeatedly drawn to David.

Once the momentum of the story defined the creature as friendless and alone, David was absorbed, and Kurt never saw him look away from the screen. That David felt a kinship to the creature was obvious to Kurt; and, damn it, old movies were supposed to have happy endings; but here, just as it seemed a chance for redemption might be present, the film artistically annihilated itself.

After the closing titles of the movie played, the kindly-sounding white-haired man appeared again to dispense more trivia, and David switched the television off. The two were silent for a few moments, then David remarked with a forced half-smile on his face, "That was heavier than I expected."

Glad to hear at least humor in David's tone, Kurt, "Yes, I don't think I'd have ever imagined that an old monster movie could have such class and style; and, um, it _was_ unpredictable."

Kurt's awkwardness wrung an unsure chuckle out of David, and the two sat in an odd-but-not-entirely-uncomfortable silence for some minutes. David wasn't aware that Kurt had some idea of the dark impression the film had upon him.

"Kurt," David finally spoke, softly with a slight squeak to his voice, "did you ever think I was attractive?" From his tone, it sounded like an objective question.

"David," Kurt answered, a slight squeak to his voice also, validating the truthfulness of his answer, "you're a really handsome guy."

"Just not your type, though, right?" The question came out quickly, almost like a reflex; and David realized that he would stopped himself had he known that it was about to come out of his mouth.

Kurt, though, was oblivious to any personal reason why David might be asking it and thought for a moment, giving a completely objective answer. "I don't know if I actually have a 'type'."

"Really?"

Kurt's face grimaced slightly as he thought about his response. "I mean, okay, aside from guys that I see who I think are 'cute' or 'hot' or 'sexy', the one thing that my few crushes had in common is that they were nice to me. They treated me with respect from the beginning when they really didn't need to."

David almost laughed darkly at the futility of that statement where he was concerned; but then he reminded himself that Kurt was the most amazing of friends and nothing more.

"I mean, okay, I'll admit I crushed on Finn," Kurt began. "He was my first real crush, and it all started because he was nice to me. He took some abuse from his friends because he stood up for me. Not in any big way, but in a lot of small ways. Then, I briefly crushed on Sam because he always treated me with respect from the first time we met. Of course, I was convinced that Sam was gay, but he wasn't. And, yeah, Blaine was really sweet at the beginning."

David became almost nauseous. He'd been in physical altercations with all three of these boys, and, in every case, it was because they were defending Kurt against him. The deep feeling of self-disgust almost caused David to laugh to himself.

"Why would you ask that anyway?" Kurt asked.

"Ask what?" David, suddenly shaken from his spiritual free-fall, posed.

"If I thought you were attractive."

David's face pained for a moment before he answered. "I guess because I never saw myself as attractive. I kinda always saw myself as a big, clumsy guy: not agile, not attractive to the guys that I thought were attractive." David exhaled loudly and continued. "It's like I never felt completely comfortable in my body, and it kinda makes me cringe: a guy that I find attractive could walk into Scandals and greet me by patting me on the back or patting me on the shoulder or shaking my hand, and I'm great with it; if he grabs my ass or something, I'm ready to run screaming. Even if I hear guys brag about the size of their cocks or go into intimate details about their experiences in front of me, it makes me wanna close myself up."

Kurt nodded, He was understanding what David was saying. Then Kurt asked, "You must have fantasies, right?"

David looked at Kurt with a smirk that smacked of annoyance. "I'm an eighteen-year-old guy. Of course I have fantasies."

This retrieved an embarrassed laugh from Kurt: Kurt was developing a fondness for that particular facial expression of David's, and the bluntness of David's answer had an obvious humor in itself.

David continued, more serious. "I guess I'm particular or selfish or insecure about myself or something. For me to allow someone to get that close to me, I need to feel comfortable. I want someone to know me before they get to the other stuff. I want someone who's willing to be patient with me because it's all discovery for me at this point; and maybe if someone knows me, really knows me, they'll be less likely to reject me. I haven't handled rejection well at all."

Kurt thought about Valentine's Day, and his rejection of David. "Do you," Kurt had some difficulty getting his words out, "feel that you've been rejected a lot?"

"Enough to know that it hurts. And enough to know that it's something that doesn't seem to hurt less no matter how many times it happens." David looked over at Kurt to see an expression of sad concern on his face. David explained further. "Well, most of those times I felt rejected, matter of fact, all of them, I was acting out of desperation, really. So, it's probably for the best that nothing happened."

"That doesn't make it hurt less, David."

"In reality, I was looking for validation, and I confused it with something that meant more."

Both boys were silent for some time; then Kurt asked, quietly, delicately as if verbally walking around a landmine, "How did it feel to you when you kissed me last year?"

David blinked and breathed quietly, shallow for a moment, finally speaking softly and low-pitched as if it was something he were shamed by the memory. "It felt amazing, Kurt. I felt like I'd been liberated or something. I'd been on dates with girls and kissed them goodnight, and it was always like, 'get this part overwith so I can go home already'. When I kissed you, I didn't want it to end. That's all."

Kurt's face betrayed disappointment in himself. "And then I pushed you away and pushed you further back."

David shook his head, a somber expression on his face. "I don't hold that against you at all, Kurt. You were scared. I gave you every reason to be scared."

More silence passed, until Kurt finally spoke. "Do you know when the first time it struck me that you were attractive was?"

David shook his head, an uncertain expression.

"This is going to sound terrible," Kurt began. "It was outside my French class last year. You apologized and started to cry. I hate to think that I'm giving you the impression that I liked seeing you like that, but it was then that I saw this amazing thing in you. I wanted to reach over and just touch you or hold you or something."

"Man," David's eyes widened and rolled away from Kurt’s as he shook his head, "if you'd have done that, I'd have crumbled right there in the hallway."

"But, then, you know what else," Kurt continued without missing a beat. "When I saw you at Scandals, you struck me as so cute."

David's expression shifted to one of sarcastic surprise. "Really? I was all awkward and giggly and dressed like a truck driver."

Kurt shook his head, looking down and laughing shallowly. "You were smiling, David. Two years at McKinley and I don't think I ever saw you smile until that night; but you have a really beautiful smile."

The revelation itself made David smile, but it also made him want to look away from Kurt. Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to look at David either at that moment, feeling that David probably was smiling as well.

Suddenly all of the uncertainty and difficulty of the conversation seemed cleansed. The two sat in silence for some minutes until David spoke, changing the subject. "Y'know when you asked me if I had fantasies, and I said that 'of course I do'?" 

"Yes," Kurt answered, snuggling himself further into the corner of the couch where the back meets the armrest, supported by a throw pillow.

"Some of my fantasies are, like, not really sexual at all."

"Really?" Kurt's expression twisted a bit, but he was smiling. "Is that fun?"

David smiled, adding a short, quiet laugh. "They're the ones for when I want to go to sleep at night. Like they get me into a really nice state of mind just before I nod off."

"Tell me one?"

David was unsure, almost regretting that he even brought it up; but he felt comfortable at this moment, and Kurt had complimented him. Perhaps David felt that he owed Kurt for the compliment, so David spoke. "Well, I think about it being a few years from now, or maybe several years from now. Whenever it is, it's sometime undetermined in the future. I have a partner, and we've been together for a while, but we're getting our first place together. We find a really awesome older house in an artsy district of whatever city we're living in. The house is great, but we spend weekends refinishing hardwood floors and painting the walls together. My partner probably has more flair for decorating than I do, so he does all of that kinda stuff; but I'm always interested in what he's doing because I love to hear him talk about his ideas and I love working together with him to get the house exactly the way we want it to be. When we get done with it, the house is this awesome combination of old architecture and new stuff. We have people over for dinner and entertain; and I'm always telling everybody how great my partner is because I'm so proud that he's mine, and he's the most amazing thing that ever happened to me." David was silent for a few seconds. "That's it."

David turned to look at Kurt who was smiling as he spoke. "Words fail me, David. That was a lovely bedtime story."

David chuckled. "Thanks for not thinking it was dumb or something."

"No, David, it was romantic and sweet and beautiful; but it was also real. It wasn't just some crazy, unlikely, impossible fantasy; it was within the realm of something that you could make happen. And that made it even better."

David smiled, allowing himself to quietly revel in the warmth of Kurt's words. He sat there, silent for a while, several minutes actually, feeling calm, very-much at peace. When he was about to speak, to thank Kurt for agreeing to stay the evening, however, he turned to address Kurt, only to discover that Kurt fallen asleep.

David sat silent for some moments, mouth frozen open as it was when he was about to speak. Finally, not wanting to wake Kurt, he slowly, carefully stood up from the couch, turned to look at Kurt, and gently lifted Kurt's legs from the floor, turning Kurt so he was on the couch fully. David then picked up a throw-blanket which was draped over the back of the couch, unfolded it, and quietly covered Kurt.

In the soft light, David was struck by how ethereal Kurt appeared: his white, luminous complexion, his incredibly soft-looking hair, his delicate features, the topography of his face. He wanted to touch Kurt's skin or hair; he reached out with his hand but withdrew it when it was within a fraction of an inch of contact, when he could feel the warmth of Kurt's being. It was as if his hand was violently repelled by something invisible, but he drew it back of his own volition. He'd violated Kurt's personal space before, and, even if no one but David knew, even if it was completely innocent, he wouldn't let it happen again.

David walked quietly over to turn on the light above the stairs and turn off the lights in the gameroom: this darkened the room but left enough light should Kurt awake and need to find his way in the unfamiliar place. Moving then to a reclining chair which was situated near the side of the couch where Kurt was sleeping, David lifted a throw-blanket from the back of the chair, sat in the chair and reclined it back as quietly as he could, threw the blanket over himself, and closed his eyes.

At some point in the early-morning hours, Kurt came into a hazy consciousness. He found himself in the darkened gameroom; he was warm and comfortable, but he didn't know exactly how his current state came to be. Without rising, he turned his head around the room, taking in as much as he could see in the dim light. He saw David in the recliner, turned halfway on his side, face in the direction of the couch. David was asleep but had the presence of a sentry keeping watch over his guest; the blanket covered him to well above his waist, and his right hand was extended off of the chair and hung in the space between the two of them, palm-side-up, fingers slightly curled.

Kurt looked at David's face in the dim light: he was indeed handsome, and in his sleep, he appeared innocent and boyish despite his physical size. In David, Kurt was seeing an immense internal beauty that sometimes seemed to almost burst from him when the two of them spoke. That it was possible that he'd hidden it from the world or tried to suppress it for so long was inconceivable to Kurt.

Kurt lifted his right hand out from under the throw blanket and reached for David's hand. Gently, he lowered it. As Kurt drew his hand closer, he felt warmth rising from David's palm. He lowered his hand and gently laid his fingers against David's palm; David's fingers opened slowly like a flower in time-lapse photography, accepted Kurt's hand, and curled loosely back around. The connection was one of incredible security to Kurt. He looked at David's face, and, in the dim light he couldn't be sure, but Kurt believed that he saw David's mouth turn its corners to a subtle, pleased smile.

Kurt felt flooded with warmth, but he couldn't hold his hand there until morning. He delicately tugged his hand; and, in an action which seemed the complete reverse of the earlier one, David's fingers opened slowly, and Kurt slipped his hand back to himself and under his blanket. The smile on David's face, however, seemed to remain after Kurt took back his hand.

David woke to the growing light of dawn and the noise of Kurt's movements upstairs. He sat up, shook the remainder of his sleep-state out of his head, and rose from the chair. Arriving on the house's main level, he walked to the guest room to see Kurt reaching into one of his overnight bags. He knocked lightly on the doorjamb and caught Kurt's attention.

"Good morning, Kurt," David asked, scratchy-voiced. "What time is it?"

"Hi, David," Kurt smiled politely. "It's quarter-to-six. Can I use the shower? I need to dress and get ready for school."

"Sure, Kurt, be my guest," David answered, pointing to the bathroom door. "I'm going to get coffee going. Anything special you want for breakfast?"

"What are you having?" Kurt asked while retrieving a bottle of body wash from his bag.

"I usually have a grapefruit and a meal-replacement bar or a bowl of cereal. You could also have, like, PBJ or something."

"Actually, a grapefruit and either PBJ or one of those bars sounds good," Kurt replied. "And coffee."

A smile widened upon Kurt's face as his eyes remained on David for a few moments.

"M-what?" David asked, smiling in kind.

Kurt giggled and looked away.

"What?" David asked, still smiling, louder this time.

Kurt shook his head, finally admitting, "Your hair's kinda messed-up, and it's really kinda cute."

David, with the remnants of sleep still fogging his head, could do nothing but look away because the smile would not remove itself from his face. "I'll see you in the kitchen whenever you're done. Coffee will be ready."

Kurt entered the kitchen after about twenty minutes. David handed Kurt a mug of coffee and asked Kurt if he wanted a glass of juice. Kurt accepted the offer and David handed Kurt a glass of orange juice. The two sat down at the table. Kurt eyed the meal-replacement bar suspiciously, picking it up and reading the ingredients. He nodded as it seemed to meet with his approval. "Where do you get these?" Kurt asked.

"Nutrition store," David answered after swallowing a wedge of grapefruit. "They're heavy. If you eat that, you won't be hungry for hours."

Kurt nodded. "Okay, I think you just sold me on the meal-replacement bar."

"It's peanut-butter flavored," David informed. "It goes well with the coffee."

Kurt dressed his coffee and proceeded to peel his grapefruit when David noticed, "Hey, you eat your grapefruit like I do."

"How am I supposed to eat it," Kurt asked, smiling.

"Well, my dad thought I was weird for doing that," David explained. "He's one of those people who cuts them in half, covers them in sugar, and digs at it with a spoon."

Kurt nodded, "Ah."

"Hey Kurt," David began as Kurt looked at him, "Thanks for staying over."

"It was actually a really good time, David, so it was no trouble at all."

"Well, my dad didn't want me by myself, and I understand that; but I'm so far from doing anything bad to myself right now that it wasn't necessary. I really enjoyed talking though."

Kurt smiled into his grapefruit, then looked up at David shyly. "Me too. And thank you for having me, and thank your dad for thinking of asking me." After a moment of silence and swallowing a section of grapefruit, Kurt observed, "I guess I never made it to the guest room last night."

David laughed for a moment. "No, you fell asleep on the couch, so I just thought I'd let you sleep there. Then, I thought that if you woke up in an unfamiliar environment when it was dark, you might be kinda weirded out, so I slept in the chair. I figured if you saw me there, you'd at least remember where you were."

"Good thinking, and very thoughtful, David."

"Oh, don't forget," David reminded Kurt, "you have half of a sandwich in the refrigerator from dinner yesterday."

"That's right; thanks for reminding me."

The two ate their breakfast as the sky became brighter. Kurt left for school, David texted his dad to let him know that everything was good, and Rupert arrived at eight o'clock as expected.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced films: "The Bride of Frankenstein" (1935), "Gods and Monsters" (1998), and "My Own Private Idaho" (1991)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 5,500

**Chapter 24**

 

**David at Thurston, Part 12**

"Hello?" Dave spoke into his telephone, the sound of the alert startling him late in the evening.

"Karofsky! Where the hell you been keepin' yourself?"

"Zee-man! Great to hear from you," Dave laughed, loud and enthusiastic. Although he hadn't seen Azimio since his last days at McKinley, they went back a long way and had been inseparable friends for years.

"Cool. Cool. And how's your wide, white ass been?"

Dave laughed. "I've been alright, Zee. How's your big, black butt doing these days? Big as ever, I'm guessing."

"K'rofsky, man, I miss you. McKinley ain't the same without you."

"Miss seeing you too. Zee. So, what's going on?"

"I'm having a Christmas party. Or a whatever-the-hell-you-wanna-call-it party. Saturday the seventeenth. Parents are gonna be away so I got the house to myself. You are gonna be here, I'm not takin' 'no' for an answer."

Dave smiled. "Zee, man, I wouldn't miss it. It's been too long since I got to hang out with you, and we have some catching-up to do."

"Betcher wide, white ass we do."

"Dude, you crack me up," Dave got out of his mouth between laughs. "So, what time is this party, and should I bring anything?"

"Nah, man, just bring your own sorry ass, and I'll supply the fun. Starts at eight and going all night 'til we drop from alcohol poisoning or somethin'. If you ain't here by ten, I'm sending a posse out to hunt your sorry white ass down."

"Zee, you do have a way with words like no one else I know. I will be there."

"Alright, bro. See you then."

"Later, Azimio."

"Later, K'rofsky."

 

* * *

 

Saturday the seventeenth found David incredibly anxiety-ridden. It seemed like everything he did at home was marked with clumsiness: nerves on edge, no sense of calm, alienated and distant from everything.

He was glad that the school week was over. He found it increasingly difficult to keep his distance from his friends. The holidays were approaching and people are naturally drawn to being with their friends this time of year, but Dave was intentionally avoiding his friends. When his usual distancing mechanisms of indifference and silence weren't working, he became verbally hostile: he could shut someone down with a minimum of words. When Howie and Sean kindly extended to Dave an invitation to a holiday party at Sean's house, Dave was initially quietly dismissive; when pressed, Dave nearly raised his voice.

"Listen, the last party I went to at Sean's place, I brought the whole mood down. Either you guys are gluttons for punishment or, despite your lofty intelligence, you can't figure out that I don't fit with your clique."

Dave's words weren't particularly insulting, but they still hurt Sean and Howie. When Gretchen got wind of the exchange, it resulted in another note tucked into Dave's locker.

_Dave:_

_I talked to Sean and Howie. I honestly don't know what to think except that it feels like you're leaving us for dead._  
 _If you feel like you've outgrown us or are too good for us, we can handle that. If there's something bothering you, we've tried to be there for you, and that hasn't worked. You were a good guy to all of us. If that means anything to you now, you're fucking up. I'd talk to you personally, but I don't know if I can bring myself to do that without severely going off on you.  
_ _When you get whatever is bothering you worked out, you know where you can find us should you want to do that. We tried to be understanding because, at the end of the day, we give a shit about you. Any one of us would have wanted to help you if we could, but you've shut all of us out. I can't speak for the others, but this is the last time I will offer. I'll help you in any way I can if I can. If I can't, I'll try to find someone who can._

_If the Dave I knew two months ago still exists somewhere, he's welcome in my world any time, but it looks like he's gone._

_G_

The note wounded Dave deeply. He didn't want to hurt these people, but he didn't want them getting too close to him either. He didn't think it would result in pushing them away, but they didn't seem to get the message any other way. In this mind, as painful as this break was, it was necessary. Holding back tears after he'd digested the words of the note caused him to suffer a severe headache; he rationalized the pain by telling himself that this was really the best thing for everyone involved and, ultimately, what he himself wanted.

Nick and Carl and the other jock toadies were equally confused by Dave's behavior, though they generally left him alone. Dave never talked much to that crowd save for Johnno and Randy; and Dave's quiet demeanor generally intimidated that crowd mainly because, when pushed to speak, Dave was sharp-tongued, specific, and harsh for the few words he issued. When any of them approached him, the tension was palpable in the air.

Dave's sleeping patterns had become erratic. He'd arrive home from school and crash hard for a few hours, the remaining hours of daylight, to awaken just before dinner, well after the early December dusk. Sometimes he'd sleep after dinner to awaken again late in the evening, burning late night and early morning hours quietly in his bedroom studying, reading, and researching.

His parents witnessed his unusual behaviors and discussed it between themselves; however, David was no trouble, even if he'd been quieter than they'd have liked him to be, and David's grades continued to be excellent. Though David spent much of his time in the solitude of his bedroom, he was always available should his parents want to speak with or spend time with him. Despite not being terribly open, David was getting along well with his father; David's relationship with his mother, though, was sometimes tense. Despite having been told, repeatedly and in no uncertain terms, that there were no romantic inclinations between David and Gretchen, Lorraine continued to press David on the matter. The result was David retreating more often into his attic-space bedroom and a tendency to an unspoken and misdirected resentment toward Gretchen, further feeding the cycle of alienation between David and his friends.

Azimio's party was a good cover; however, David had no plans of going there. He dressed himself like he would be going to a party of other high school students, wearing a pair of jeans and a casual-sporty light blue button-down shirt with a vertical stripe pattern worn over a dark T-shirt. Over this, he wore a fleece jacket as the weather was fairly cold outside. He bade his parents goodbye for the evening at about seven o'clock.

David hadn't been to Scandals since the night he saw Kurt there. It wasn't the possibility of running into Kurt again which kept him away but rather that the excursion nearly landed him in trouble with his parents. He couldn't think of any specific reason why he was driven to go to Scandals that night, but if he'd have thought about it at all, he'd have probably come to the correct conclusion that he was craving human contact of any sort; and the relative anonymity of Scandals made it seem the better option than Azimio's party (plus, he wouldn't hear any anti-gay slurs at Scandals, and those had become increasingly difficult for Dave to suffer, particularly since his dreadful Thanksgiving Day experience).

He arrived at Scandals within a half-hour after leaving his house. The doorman nearly asked for Dave's ID, recognizing his face but taken aback by his uncharacteristically youthful manner of dress. The place was packed, and there were a fair number of younger men in attendance this evening, most likely college kids home for the Christmas break, Dave thought to himself. Though there were a couple of open stools at the bar, Dave noticed that most of the younger people there, the ones closer in age to him, were either standing near the bar, along the walls, or out on the dancefloor, and, with this in mind, Dave decided against sitting at the bar. Ordering his regular beer, Dave turned, still standing with his back to the bar, and watched the crowd.

Of the younger men at the club that night, there were a few in flashy, hip clothing, but the vast majority of them appeared to be dressed very casually and not unlike Dave: the low-key approach Dave adopted for the night was a good choice, he thought; and, taking a suggestion from something which Rod had told him on his last visit, Dave felt that projecting an image more true to himself might make him more inviting to men closer to his own age.

The music was thumpy as usual and primarily consisted of songs which Dave didn't recognize. He stood for some minutes scanning the crowd, watching the people on the dancefloor, and looking for people which he might know. As people walked past him or pressed toward the bar for drinks, Dave tried to make himself appear friendly and approachable. A few of the people smiled in his direction, and he smiled back, but no actual words were exchanged save for the occasional ones which were necessitated by polite etiquette: "excuse me," "please," "thank you," and the like.

Most of the other patrons seemed polite and friendly, but, for all of the conversations going on around him, Dave couldn't help himself from feeling somewhat isolated. He could see people all around him having a good time with each other: laughing, dancing, and talking; but he felt alone. As time grew somewhat later, David had trouble trying to keep friendly and approachable appearance he'd tried to project. He eventually just looked somewhat sad. He'd had two beers, and he didn't want to have more than that. The faces of the happy revelers intensified Dave's alienation. A trippy-sounding song began to play. He'd heard it before at Gretchen's house. The singer's voice sounded morose and sad but somehow angry also, perhaps desperate.

_There's a club if you'd like to go_  
 _You could meet somebody who really loves you_  
 _So you go and you stand on your own_  
 _And you leave on your own_  
 _And you go home and you cry  
_ _And you want to die_

The later it became, the less Dave felt like being there. Before it really started to show on his face, he thought that perhaps he should leave. As it would happen, though, a friendly-looking young man walked up to the bar and settled himself in the space next to Dave. The man had a confident gait to his stride, and he was a little shorter than Dave. Dave guessed his age to be, maybe, mid-twenties, not quite ten years older than Dave. The man was slightly thicker than average-built, he wore a flannel shirt unbuttoned over a T-shirt, and he was scruffy and unshaven, though attractively so. The man ordered a beer and stood next to Dave, giving Dave a pleasant expression, almost a smile, as he ran his eyes up and down the length of Dave's body, finally coming to rest again on Dave's face and smiling. This brought about a good feeling in Dave; just the man's presence next to him and the welcome feeling the man's expression gave him had a calming effect. The man was drinking his beer quickly. Dave hoped that the man would begin a conversation because Dave was not confident in his ability to do this, though he addressed the man with his eyes a few times while smiling, trying to give the impression of an invitation to speak. The man finished his beer and gave Dave a full smile and a quick nod. Dave didn't find the man to be terribly attractive, but he wasn't unattractive to Dave's eyes either.

Dave smiled as naturally as he could on command and summoned the courage to speak a simple, "Hey."

The man spoke back with a smile, "Hey, so what are you here for?"

Dave shrugged and smiled more naturally. "Just hanging out. Seeing if any of my friends are here. You?"

The man raised his empty beer bottle, put it up to his mouth, and tilted his head back as if swallowing some invisible final swig; he then made the bottle, the entire bottle, disappear into his mouth and down his throat. He held it there for some seconds before coughing it back up into his hand and holding it again, nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly regular activity. Dave turned away before the bottle was back in the man's hand.

David stood still and incredibly uncomfortable, casting his gaze into the floor in front of him. He felt the other man's arm slide behind him and down his back, his hand finally resting on Dave's ass. Dave felt his skin tense and spoke very quietly, "Please don't."

The other man retracted his arm slowly and casually and remained standing next to Dave for a few more seconds; neither man looked at the other. After a short, uncomfortable span of time, the other man walked to another part of the club. Dave relaxed somewhat though he was still troubled by the incident.

Looking at his phone, Dave realized that it was not quite eight-thirty: he'd been there for less than an hour, but it felt to him like an eternity. He decided he'd visit the men's room and then leave if he didn't run into anyone he knew on his way out of the club. He entered the men's room with the intent to urinate, but when he saw two occupants engaged in a sex act through the hole in the side of the stall, he hastily exited the restroom deciding instead that he should leave the pair undisturbed and to their own devices even though their activity had left Dave markedly disturbed.

Dave walked as short a path as possible to the exit door, breaking a slight nervous sweat before emerging into the cool night air. Approaching his truck in the parking lot, he decided to relieve himself between the parked vehicles as it was dark enough and the cars were crowded closely enough for his activity to go unnoticed. As he urinated, he calmed and stood for a minute, breathing in the cool night air.

The evening was still early, so he climbed into his truck and headed toward Azimio's party.

"K'rofsky in da house!" Azimio heralded upon Dave's arrival, arms raised, voice booming.

"Hey, Zee," Dave nearly shouted, smiling widely at his former classmate.

Azimio reached his arms out and patted Dave firmly on both shoulders before stepping behind him and patting his back, pushing him into the activity of the party. "Glad you could make it, white boy."

As Dave entered a larger area of the house, he saw several former classmates from McKinley. A number of them were obvious members of the football team and, upon recognizing Dave, became jubilant in seeing him and shouted, nearly in unison, "Karofsky!"

"Hey, guys!" Dave approached the crowd and shook hands with Anthony, Shane, and DiSalvo before he felt two thick arms wrap themselves around him.

"Who the fuh-," Dave turned his head around to see Chris's face inches from his own. "Strando!"

Chris relinquished his hold on Dave, and the two smacked each other on their shoulders, exchanging hellos.

"It's been too long since I've seen you, Karofsky," Chris nearly yelled.

"Yeah, man, but I'm here now," Dave said in reply, smiling.

"Man, the team could have used you this year."

"Ah, well, I had some other stuff going on," Dave answered.

"So," Chris asked, somewhat a whine, "Why did you leave McKinley, man?"

Dave's face pained slightly. "A few reasons. Thurston offers a few more AP classes than McKinley does." It was a true-enough statement, but hardly the primary reason why Dave transferred schools.

"I know," Azimio interjected almost spitting his words with a singular distaste, "He left 'cause o' that prom fiasco and that Hummel kid."

Dave's face reacted immediately. "No! Zee! Kurt and I are cool now. That's... not why I left."

"What?" Zee was baffled. "What do you mean that you're okay with that deviant Hummel?"

"Just what I said, Zee; and Kurt's not a deviant. He's just... gay. Not... straight. Doesn't make him a deviant; it's just the way he is."

"Aaah, Whatever! I still say he's a deviant." Zee spoke, sounding annoyed. "Well, anyway I wish my slushie partner-in-crime was still around."

"That wouldn't be me either, Zee," Dave added, "I wouldn't be doing that anymore."

"What the fuck, K'rofsky?" Zee was either agitated or believably affecting agitation.

"I just don't do that kinda stuff any longer. I think we all stopped doing it last year anyway, after that championship game where we did the halftime show."

"Eh," Azimio whined, "I suppose you think you're better than me or somthin'."

Dave grimaced and shook his head. "No, Zee. You get your kicks however you like. It's just not me anymore, okay? Just leave it at that."

"Guess you think you outgrew it," Azimio didn't seem to want to let it go.

Chris interjected before Dave could reply. "C'mon Az, you know the football team is cool with the glee club. I think you're just a little too drunk and nostalgic right now."

"Aaah..." Azimio left the room.

"Thanks, Strando," Dave smiled at Chris.

"Ah, it's cool, man. I don't know what's eating Azimio right now."

"Probably just disappointed in me for not living up to his expectations," Dave said, sounding somewhat disappointed himself.

"Eh," Chris continued. "A lot has changed since you left McKinley. I mean, the thing with the football team and the glee club, well, they are actually cool with each other now."

"Ever since the championship game last year?" Dave offered.

"Well, yeah, it started with that," Chris explained, "but it's even cooler this year because a bunch of the football guys were recruited to dance as extras in the school musical."

"Oh yeah?" Dave asked, an interested smile on his face. "How'd that go over with the rest of the team?"

"Fuck, Karofsky, we all got tickets and went to see 'em," Chris said, laughing. "And we had a pretty damned good time!"

"Yeah?" Dave genuinely like what Chris was telling him. "You weren't one of the extras?" Dave asked jokingly.

"Aw, fuck you, Karofsky, no way my fat ass is gonna look good dancing; but the ones that did dance kicked ass."

Dave laughed. "Did Zee go?"

Chris laughed harder at the question. "Yeah, he went, and he cried like a little girl at the ending."

"Nuh-uh!" Dave's grin became devious.

"Yeah, Karofsky, it's true," Chris continued to relate. "They did _West Side Story_ , the singing and dancing were great, we all had a good time."

"So, who was in it? Was Puck in it? Finn? Kurt?"

Chris rolled his eyes, thinking. "Yeah, Puck, Chang, Yeah, that Kurt kid was in it; his boyfriend also. I don't think Finn was. I think his dancing sucks or something. That Rachel chick, the really dorky-looking one, she was in it, and she looked and sounded incredible. Santana was in it too. Man, it was a cool time."

"Thanks, Strando, for making me wish I didn't leave." Dave's interest piqued when Chris mentioned Kurt's boyfriend. Dave was impressed with the ease at which Chris said the word, as if it didn't make any difference that it was a _boy_ that had a _boyfriend_. This made Dave hopeful. At the same time, he was almost certain he witnessed a breakup between Kurt and his boyfriend weeks ago in the Scandals parking lot. "How long ago was the musical?" Dave asked.

Chris thought again. "Mid-November?"

Right around the time he saw Kurt at Scandals, Dave thought. He didn't want to ask too many prying questions about Kurt's relationship status, although he was interested.

"Hey, Strando, good to catch up with you, but I'm going to go grab myself a beer," Dave said. "I'll catch you later tonight, I'm sure."

Dave stepped across the room and into the next where a large cooler was situated on the kitchen floor, reached into the cooler, and picked out a can of beer. He popped it open to find another member of the Mckinley football team flagging him down.

"Hey, Karofsky."

"DiSalvo, how have you been? Good to see you."

"Yeah, good to see you too," the thin, wiry jock replied. "Hey, I got a cousin who goes to Thurston. She was asking me all kinds of questions about you last week."

Dave shot an expression of surprise. "Really? What's her name?"

"Sharon Tinsley."

Dave puzzled. _That's Nick's girlfriend_ , he thought to himself. "I wonder why she was asking about me."

"I dunno, man," DiSalvo offered. "She borrowed my yearbook from last year too. Maybe she's into you, Karofsky." DiSalvo smiled.

"Ah, I doubt it, 'Salvo, I know her boyfriend," Dave laughed.

"Ah, I'm sure it's cool," DiSalvo said, finally.

It was about eleven o'clock when Azimio caught up with Dave again. Dave had consumed two beers; Azimio had consumed several more than that.

"Hey, K'rofsky, man, sorry about us buttin' heads before when you got here."

Dave gave Azimio an understanding expression. "Hey, Zee, it's okay. I don't want anything to fuck up our friendship either, but, yeah, I've changed some since I left McKinley. I think I'm a better person than I was. That doesn't mean I think I'm better than you."

"Yeah, man, I believe it." Azimio responded. "I jus' miss you bein' around. It ain't the same."

"I'll tell you what, Zee. You call me any time you wanna hang out or BS or... whatever, and I will be there, okay? We logged on too many years, more than any of my other friends, for us _not_ to be best friends, Zee. I may have transferred schools, but you aren't losing me that easily."

Azimio smiled. "You're my brother, K'rosky." Azimio reached over and wrapped an arm snugly around Dave's neck: a cross between a drunken hug and a wrestling hold.

"Yeah, Zee, we're brothers, but the drunker you get, the more letters my name loses. Pretty soon I'm gonna be 'Krossy' or 'Krocky'."

"Shut yer wide, white mouth, K," Azimio said with a huge, friendly grin.

Dave laughed. "You've reduced me to a single initial. Is it cool if I call my folks and tell them I'm crashing here? I'm not drunk, but I don't wanna drive, just the same."

Azimio composed himself. "Fuck, yeah, Krosky, half the people who are here now are gonna crash here."

"Cool, Zee, you're the best. I'll give my parents a call and let them know."

 

* * *

 

David sat in the quiet of the gameroom, and he could hear his parents in the kitchen upstairs. David had his laptop open and was searching his old email messages.

Christmas was less than a week away, and his family was going to Paul's parents for a visit and lunch early in the day (traditionally, Paul's side of the family held their big holiday dinners at lunchtime as opposed to the traditional early-evening dinnertime). The evening Christmas dinner would be spent at David's house with just himself and his parents. He wasn't sure if the hostility he voiced about the Thanksgiving event with his mom's side of the family played into the decision to visit his dad's side of the family for the Christmas, but, whatever the logic, he was relieved that he didn't need to come up with an excuse to avoid them. Meeting with his dad's side of the family was far easier for David.

Then David finally found what he'd been seeking: an email message sent to him in late May. He'd opened it and read it once, and he'd considered deleting it at the time, but he didn't. The subject line was simple, not even a word but an acronym: "PFLAG". It was now December, and he opened and read the message for the second time.

_David,_

_I was serious about what I said concerning you and me starting a McKinley chapter of PFLAG. I don't want to press you too much on this, but I really do think it would help you. If you have any interest in this at all, my cell number is at the end of this message under my name. Even if you don't think that you have an interest in this, I think it's something that you should at least try. I did make it a condition of my return to McKinley, and I was certainly serious enough when I said it; but I don't want to hold you to a condition like that if you're not comfortable with it, and I would never trivialize what you're going through._

_Kurt Hummel  
_ _567-211-1166_

David entered Kurt's phone number into the contacts list of his cell phone. He felt he wanted to speak with Kurt sometime soon. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say, but, as many times as Kurt told David that he should come out and as many times as David resisted (and it wasn't nearly as many times as David had verbally suggested, certainly nothing even close to the "broken record" to which he'd likened Kurt when the two spoke privately in Principal Figgins' office), Kurt kept his word to David that he would never out him, something Kurt reiterated when they spoke at Scandals. Though he and Kurt shared few things outside of a fucked-up history, David realized that he could absolutely trust Kurt. On some level, Kurt gave a damn about David's struggle, and this gave David the impression that the two of them could be close. Kurt was closer to this un-nameable reality at the center of David's being than anyone else: he'd actually seen it first-hand; and despite their fucked-up history, Kurt respected that this was no easy process for David.

"David," his mom called causing him to raise his gaze from his laptop screen, "Dinner will be ready in a few."

"Thanks, mom," David acknowledged his mom warmly, "I'll be up in a couple of minutes."

Lorraine sat down on the edge of a chair adjacent to the corner of the couch where David was seated, and reached over, touching David's forearm which rested on the armrest of the couch. "Do you want to invite Gretchen over for Christmas dinner?"

David looked away from his mother, casting his gaze downward and closing his laptop. "Mom, I haven't spoke to Gretchen in, like, over a month. We don't hang out any more. I told you all this last month when you wanted her to come over for Thanksgiving."

Lorraine's face registered something unspecific: sadness, disappointment, disgust perhaps. "Did you do something to make her angry at you?"

"No, mom, we just, like, grew apart or something," David's voice was raising: the repeated questioning bothered him increasingly. "Not her fault, not my fault, just something that happens." There was a pause, then David continued. "Y'know, you never seem to ask why I don't hang out with Sean or Howie or those other guys any longer."

"David, that's different. They're guys."

"But they were all my friends, and that's what Gretchen was also. Quit making her into something more than that."

"You seem sad when I ask about her."

That wasn't untrue, though David wouldn't quite admit that. "I think I'm just tired of you bringing it up, Mom." David did sound spent by the exchange. "Can we go upstairs for dinner?"

Lorraine didn't answer, but instead rose and the two of them ascended the stairs.

 

* * *

 

The library was Dave's usual stop during his second period free-study time. The Wednesday before the Christmas break found him there as usual. This was the last "serious" day of school before the break which began Friday; the Thursday between would see the teachers going through the motions of taking attendance, but the classes would largely be reviews of the semester's material in preparation for the January mid-term exams or, for the less-structured and less-technical classes, informal holiday parties. This Wednesday, however, Dave had a physics test two periods away. Although he knew the material and Physics was one of his best classes, he still felt that it couldn't hurt to go over the notes one last time before the exam.

"Karofsky."

Dave looked up from his notes to see Nick standing in front of him holding a cell phone. "What's up, Nick?" Dave replied, sounding friendly.

"Check out this picture somebody sent me. What's going on here?" Nick set his cell phone before Dave. Though the photo on the screen display made Dave's blood run cold, it wasn't detectable in his reactions.

On the screen was a blurry, dark camera-phone photo of two young men in formal attire. The one on the left was thickly-built and somewhat identifiable as Dave; the one on the right was thin and waifish-looking. Though the photo was blurry and dark, both young men seemed to have uncertain expressions on their faces, but the one on the left cast his gaze downward while the figure on the right held his head high; and both young men were wearing gold crowns in the photo.

"That is a picture of something really fucked-up that happened at the McKinley junior prom," Dave said cooly and indifferently. Nick smirked a suspicious expression back at Dave. Dave continued. "I'd appreciate if you didn't show that picture to anyone, okay Nick? I mean, it was no big thing, just a fucked-up prank. It was months ago, but it was still fucked-up."

Nick, still smirking smugly but silent, held eye contact with Dave for several seconds before picking up his phone, sliding it into his pocket, and slowly walking away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced song: "How Soon is Now" by the Smiths; and, yes, I have referenced it in an earlier chapter.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate word count this chapter: 14,500

**Chapter 25**

**Friday March 16**

"Is Saturday still our standing date?" Blaine asked, eyes apologetic and hopeful.

Kurt exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes upward and bringing them back down to address Blaine's. "Do you have a plan for something to do or are we going to just wing-it again, because winging-it really didn't work out well for me last week."

The two sat in silence for a while. It was the free period just before their Friday Glee meeting, and tension seemed to hang in the air around them as the seconds ticked away, not quickly enough for either's liking.

"Okay, I was bluffing last week," Blaine admitted.

"I know, but I wasn't," Kurt countered.

"What?" Blaine appeared stunned. "You _knew_ I was bluffing?"

Kurt bounced his head, nodding affirmatively. "I guess I didn't exactly know, but I suspected at the time you said it. Your reaction confirmed it. You admitting it now is making you seem really needy."

Blaine grimaced, stunned by the comment. Kurt continued. "Blaine, I'm eighteen years old. You're seventeen. There is absolutely no reason why either of us should feel we _need_ to have a boyfriend right now."

Now Blaine appeared confused. "But, like, you're here and I'm here, and I think we love each other."

"Oh, Blaine, would you feel the same way if your GAP-crush from last year showed up on your doorstep serenading you with your favorite Coldplay song?" Kurt exhaled again, loudly, and shook his head in futility looking downward. "Don't forget, Blaine, I was Plan B. I was patient with you, waiting until you'd exhausted all of your A-Plans and finally come around to notice that I was adoring you from afar. And, by your own admission, a song I sang to a dead bird was what made you fall in love with me. Okay, it swept me off my feet at the time, but, in retrospect, it seems a little convenient and more than a little tacky." Kurt didn't sound angry, merely exhausted of the current discussion.

Blaine looked downward toward the floor. Kurt had spelled it out bluntly, and Blaine couldn't call Kurt on anything: everything he’d just said was true.

"Blaine, we do love each other," Kurt continued. "But if we take some time off, maybe we'll come to understand some things about how we really feel about each other."

"I'm not sure I understand, Kurt."

"If we take some time off, maybe we'll better understand whether what we feel for each other is the kind of love that makes us merely friends or the kind of love that makes us more than that."

"You're friendzoning me?"

"You know what, Blaine? If it's bothering you that much, maybe you'd have thought of that before you decided that bluffing me would be a good way of getting me to pine for you. I mean, really, that amounts to a head-game, and I'd never do anything like that to you." Kurt was becoming agitated. "And maybe, if it bothers you that much, you should have introduced me to your Dalton sports-buddy."

"You're friendzoning me. I don't believe it."

"Believe it, Blaine."

"Kurt, I switched schools to be with you," Blaine's face was intense and sincere.

"Blaine, it's possible that switching schools for a Plan-B-boyfriend wasn't the best-thought-out idea you've had."

Silence.

"Look at it this way, Blaine. We understand that we love each other. We spend some time off of being a couple. We still hang out and do things together. Maybe we come to understand that we are better together. Maybe we get back together stronger and more intelligently than before. But, maybe we understand that we're better as friends."

Blaine continued to be silent, looking down at the floor and shaking his head with an intense expression on his face.

"That's all you've got?" Kurt asked, surprised.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, sounding meek.

"So far, I've given you some solid reasons why taking some time off is a good idea. You've given me an admission that you were bluffing and disillusionment over being friendzoned."

"I guess I've got more," Blaine spoke defiantly, "I've got the fact that I know you love me too much to let me go like this."

Kurt looked stunned. "What exactly _was_ that?" Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're not inside my head, you don't know what I'm feeling, and that was just... _lame_."

Kurt paused before resuming. "I just thought of another, though. Rationalize your transfer to McKinley by thinking about how much money your parents are saving over Dalton's expensive tuition."

At this, Blaine appeared like he was about to explode. " _That's not funny_. You know, you _asked_ me to transfer for you. Remember?"

"That doesn't mean it was exactly the wisest choice for you, Blaine."

"Seriously, Blaine, no reason to be angry about this," Kurt continued. "Find something else to do this Saturday afternoon. Or, come up with something worthwhile and we'll hang out and do it together; but I'm not up for suffering through another Saturday of the Lima Bean, Mall, Breadstix, and argument-about-which-movie-we-want-to-see tour of Lima, Ohio this week. Suggest anything."

Blaine resigned himself to a calmer-but-no-more-satisfied expression. "You're right. That's all I got."

"Well, Blaine, just so you know, I have no plans either. If you should come up with something interesting to do between now and tomorrow, Saturday could be back on. I might think of something to do, and I'll let you know. The bottom line is that this is a chance to see if we're doing this because we actually want to be with each other or if we're doing this because we just think we should be together by default."

Blaine gathered his thoughts and calmed. "You know, that does kind-of make sense, Kurt. I have an idea. If we're both going to be bored on Saturday, why can't we be bored together? As friends. Maybe the boredom or the lack of a planned 'date' will make us come up with something different."

Kurt's face perked into an interested expression. "That is not at all what I had in mind, but the attitude is right. We'll talk on the phone tomorrow and map something out. No schedule so no hurry."

"So that means we might get back together, right?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"Blaine, the original idea as you proposed it was to take some time off. You didn't propose breaking it off altogether with no possibility of getting together again. Let's just try something and see what happens."

Both boys were satisfied with this and proceeded to the Glee meeting smiling and positive. The Friday Glee session was fun, if uneventful; and Kurt was home by four o'clock. Kurt had slept well the night before at David's house, but it still wasn't a typical night's sleep: sleeping in an unfamiliar place was never nearly as restful as sleeping at home. He was very-much looking forward to getting through Friday evening's events and retiring to bed early. The lack of the obligation of his nightly conversation with Blaine made his evenings end that much sooner he found.

Still, thoughts of the previous evening played fondly in his memory. He texted David when he had settled in for the afternoon.

Kurt: _Good afternoon David. May I call?_ 4:21 PM

Kurt's phone rang almost immediately.

"Hello, David," Kurt smiled into the phone.

"Hi, Kurt. What's going on?"

"I just got in from school a short while ago. It was a pretty unremarkable day. How was your Friday?"

"About the same as most any day here," David added a chuckle at the end of his answer. "Rupert brought a couple of tests in. Even when I'm not formally going to school, teachers still prefer to use Friday as test-day."

"How do you think you did?"

"I think I did well. I don't do much other than study and read, so there'd be no excuse for me bombing any tests."

"Did you sleep okay last night?" Kurt asked, feeling that he himself could have been better-rested.

"Yeah," David hesitated for a moment. "Not like sleeping in my bed, but I was able to nap for a while this afternoon. Dad got in a little while ago."

"How was his trip?"

David laughed before answering. "He says these trips are, in his words, lame. Even though it was short, he was glad to be home. How about you? Typical Friday night at Congressman Hummel's house?"

"As far as I can see, yes. I'm looking forward to going to bed early tonight. Unlike you, I'm not an afternoon nap person; and, I agree that I slept well at your place, but it's not like sleeping at home."

There was a silence between them over the phone for a moment before Kurt spoke again. "It was worth a less-than-perfect night of sleep, though."

David audibly exhaled: it nearly sounded like a sigh of relief. "I guess that means I'm a decent host?" His words sounded shy, almost pleading.

Kurt laughed, it was nearly a giggle. "Yes, David. It was a pretty great time. You wouldn't need to twist my arm to get me to do something like that again." Kurt thought he could actually hear David smile on the other end of the conversation.

"So," David began after a moment, "Big plans with Blaine tomorrow?"

"No. No plans. I'm not even sure if we're going out."

"I thought Saturday was your standing appointment with Blaine," David stated, sounding slightly questioning.

"Well, last week was kind-of unspectacular. I told him that if we couldn't come up with something to do other than our weekly ritual, it might be just as well to skip it. Last week felt _too much_ like a 'standing appointment'. I mean, it's not like we don't see each other in school every day or talk on the phone all the time."

"I have no comment," David observed. "No experience with that sort of thing so I have no wisdom to contribute. I'll take your word for it. How is Blaine doing?"

"Blaine's doing fine." Kurt sounded annoyed at the triteness of the sentence. "Blaine is always about the same. Not much changes."

"I guess that's a good thing," David opined. "You always know what to expect."

"He's definitely not unpredictable." Kurt let out a small laugh.

"Well, I should probably get going and see what Dad has in mind for dinner."

"Okay, David. Can I call later?"

David laughed. "Sure, Kurt. You know I'll be here."

Finn drove directly from school to the airport for Burt and Carole. The dinner was uneventful and spoke of a long week for all of the Hummel-Hudsons. Kurt was indeed ready for bed earlier than usual by design. He picked up his phone and sent David a quick message.

Kurt: _Good evening, David._ 9:03 PM

Kurt's phone lit up moments later.

"Hi, David," Kurt spoke quietly and pleasantly into the phone. "You're always so quick to call."

"Hi, Kurt," David sounded relaxed if raspy-throated. "Usually when you call, I'm not doing anything but sitting here reading or studying or something. How's life with the congressman's son tonight?"

Kurt audibly smiled through a breath. "Normal Friday. Everyone seems tired from the week. Dinner was quiet. Finn was kind-of talkative, but, honestly, I didn't pick up much of what he was saying. How was dinner with your dad?"

"Pizza and wings. I'm getting dangerously sick of this stuff, and I think Dad is also, which sucks, because we both love to eat. Dad's planning on attempting to cook dinner tomorrow. I told him I'd help. If you hear firetrucks and sirens tomorrow afternoon, you can assume they're headed to my place."

Kurt laughed aloud. "I love it when you make me laugh, David."

"You think I'm being _funny_ , Hummel?" David barked, affecting seriousness before breaking into laughter himself.

"Um," Kurt spoke, regaining his breath, "what are you going to... um... try to make?"

"Just, like, pasta sauce: put it on the stove, let it cook all day. Something like that. If it turns out okay and the house doesn't burn down and neither my dad nor I need rushed to the hospital after eating or anything, we'll maybe have some friends over next time we collaborate on dinner."

More laughter from Kurt. "Something like that is pretty foolproof, David."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just being a wise-ass. Besides, I enjoy making you crack-up, Kurt."

"Well, you're pretty adept at that, David."

"What?" David asked, "Being a wise-ass or cracking you up?"

Kurt exhaled loudly. David chuckled to himself as he could swear he heard Kurt's eyes roll. The brief silence was comfortable. Finally, Kurt spoke.

"Whether you're being funny or a wise-ass or we're having a serious conversation, David, it's always good."

David was silent. Kurt finally spoke again. "Are you still there, David?"

David responded slowly. "Yeah," He finally said, lazily. Kurt thought that it sounded like David said it with a lazy smile on his face.

"I agree with you; I like talking with you too, Kurt," David said after a few moments of silence. "I like making you laugh, and I feel like I could talk to you about just about anything." He stopped short of going further. He could have said considerably more.

"Well, I think I'm going to get going, David. Mostly, I just wanted to say 'good night'."

David hesitated and spoke slowly as if unsure. "You... wanted... to say... _'good night'_ to me?"

"Yes, David. I fell asleep before I had the chance to do that last night," Kurt spoke, softly, "and you were such a wonderful host and excellent conversationalist."

"Well, then," David spoke slowly and softly after a pause, rasp still in his voice, "um, good night, Kurt."

"Good night, David," Kurt answered quietly but clearly.

Kurt ended the call and returned his phone to his nightstand, connecting it to the charger.

David had no idea that Kurt and Blaine had parted. Kurt wasn't sure how he'd feel about David knowing. Though David had shown in the past that he could let the smallest impressions run riot with his feelings and perceptions, he seemed to have contained that sort of behavior. For Kurt's part, his feelings about David were mixed and strong. Kurt loved the talks that he and David would share, and he genuinely appreciated the internal beauty he increasingly saw in David's personality. David was romantic, almost to a delirious level; and David possessed a depth which made him unlike anyone Kurt had known. On the downside, there were the bursts of admitted selfishness which David sometimes displayed and occurrences like the bitter mood with which David greeted Kurt a week ago (though Kurt felt part at fault in that particular episode).

The most striking thing about David though, thought Kurt, was that David didn't tailor himself to suit Kurt, and, similarly, David introduced Kurt to his life fully and without hesitation: there was a genuine feeling of shared experience with David.

Kurt didn't want to think about how he was feeling where David was concerned, or where anyone was concerned, really. Kurt felt that his breakup with Blaine afforded him some time alone to understand what was important to him in a relationship or, perhaps, if he wanted to be with anyone at all for the time being. It was a liberating feeling.

Or, at least that's what he tried to convince himself. Kurt couldn't understand why, if he should feel so happily free and uncommitted, the thought of David kept haunting him as he tried to sleep.

 

* * *

 

David held the phone to his ear until the call audibly ended from Kurt's side. David was touched, but he was also wondering: _do just plain friends call each other just to tell each other 'good night'?_ David pondered. He really didn't want to feel anything more for Kurt than he already did; certainly not what he felt going into February: it hurt him too much when he realized that they wouldn't be together in 'that way', regardless of any logical sense any explanation offered.

Kurt didn't seem at all the type to lead David on in this manner; David resigned himself to believing that he was making more out of the conversation than should be made. Kurt did seem to be an exceptionally caring person to his friends. Still, David couldn't help feeling like he wanted to get closer to Kurt: Kurt's kindness and openness overwhelmed David at times. This was almost worse than the days preceding Valentine's Day: at that time he really didn't know Kurt and what he was feeling was based upon a personality that his own mind manufactured; now he was actually getting to understand the way Kurt conducted himself. If before he knew Kurt, he might have had the misconception that Kurt was a marginally-caring, proud-spirited fashion plate: the quintessential gay stereotype; he was discovering that, in reality, Kurt had, despite his fashionable appearance and flamboyant mannerisms, an incredibly giving personality and an almost bottomless capacity for empathy.

Sleep didn't come easily for David this evening. No matter that he continually reminded himself that he couldn't get close to Kurt on that level, he couldn't help feeling that it was where he wanted to be.

David didn't know how long he lay awake in bed. This was somewhat unusual for David who, despite some very difficult and sleepless nights in recent memory, rarely had trouble sleeping in the last few weeks. He was about to reach for his remote control so he could surf channels on the television when his phone lit up with an incoming text message.

Kurt: _Hi, David. I hope I didn't wake you._ 11:16 PM

David sent a message back immediately.

David: _No. Not asleep. What's going on?_ 11:17 PM

Kurt: _Is it okay to call?_ 11:17 PM

David dialed Kurt's number in response.

"Hi, David. Thank you for calling." Kurt was speaking at a very low level, nearly a whisper.

"No problem. I wasn't asleep. I thought you were tired." David was speaking just above a whisper, his voice was scratchy and hoarse, but his tone receptive.

"I am. I just can't get to sleep for some reason. I thought you might still be awake."

"Well, Kurt, I was trying to sleep, but I couldn't get to sleep either. I mean, it is a Friday night, but it's not like I'm staying out late with friends or anything like that. Just another night to me for the most part."

Kurt felt terrible for David at that admission.

David continued. "I get up pretty early in the morning usually also, so I was thinking I should get to sleep just after we got off of the phone. That was nearly two hours ago. I was ready to turn on the TV. Sometimes that puts me right to sleep."

"Your voice sounds really rough, David. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," David said slowly, raspy-sounding. He answered slowly, hesitating somewhat. "It's... um... from when I tried to hang myself. It's always there when I talk quietly like this. Usually, when I talk at a normal conversational volume, it's not there, like my voice is normal. If I speak loudly, sometimes it just cuts out on me totally."

Kurt shuddered at the grim reminder. "Does it hurt at all?"

"No, just, if I talk like this for too long, I'll start to feel it a little more. It's also more pronounced when I'm laying down like I am now."

"Is it going to go away?"

"I don't know. It's been, like, almost a month. They did tell me that some of the injury to my throat might be permanent." Kurt audibly gasped in reaction; David continued. "It's no big deal, Kurt. It's not like I lost my voice or anything. I still sound normal most of the time. My breathing's normal."

A few moments of silence passed between them, then Kurt said, "Tell me a bedtime story, David."

David laughed in reaction followed by Kurt laughing as well. "I'm guessing that you meant that as a joke, right? I mean you're laughing too."

"Well, you did tell me that wonderful fantasy of yours last night. I can see why you'd want to think of it before you'd go to sleep." Kurt paused for a moment. "Do you remember when you were in the hospital? I asked you to think of something you were looking forward to in the future?"

"Yeah, of course, Kurt. That was easily the high-point of that week." David was smiling at the memory.

"Well, why did I need to help you with that? I basically said the whole thing. You obviously could have contributed some great ideas of your own."

David exhaled loudly. "I guess because, well, I didn't think of it at the time for one thing. I kinda buried those thoughts when I was around other people." David stopped for a moment. "I'm kinda surprised I told you last night."

"Are you disappointed that you told me?"

"No," David answered, sounding thoughtful. "I don't regret telling you. And you took it the right way." David trusted Kurt with such things, but he stopped short of telling him that. Instead, he opted to say, "Maybe you should tell _me_ a bedtime story, Kurt."

Both boys laughed with Kurt answering. "I don't have one handy like you did."

"Adapt one of your fantasies; that's all I did," David offered.

"Oh my, David, I don't think so," Kurt quietly exclaimed. "I mean, I don't doubt that you have fantasies that were were a little too, um, 'hot' to tell me, but I don't think I'd feel comfortable telling _any_ of my fantasies to you."

"Aw, bummer." David laughed quietly.

The two were quiet, listening to each other's breathing on the other side of the phone. It was calming for both of them.

"Have you worked on your History project any more, David?"

"I worked on it a little. I made notes as to the best things that both you and Blaine said and their place on the recording so I can locate them easily." David paused before continuing. "I need to set up those other interviews also. I touched base with those other guys, but I still need to find a place where I can conduct the interviews. More interviewees wouldn't hurt, but I think just the ones I have lined up would be enough." David paused again. "How about your school stuff?"

"The only really big things I have coming up are my finals. I need to decide on the song I'm going to sing for my NYADA audition, but it's probably going to be "Music of the Night" from _Phantom_. Of course, the glee club will be rehearsing like crazy for the national competition. We haven't selected the songs we're doing yet. It seems like that it always takes a long time pick those songs, and everyone fights over the selections."

"Really?" David sounded surprised. "I thought that all of you glee club people got along like a big, happy family."

"Oh. please, David, we've got twelve different egos fighting for the spotlight on any given day in the choir room, and you can't tell any one of them why they're wrong."

"I just, it... uh... never occurred to me that it would be that way," David said, still surprised.

"Well, at the end of the day, we _are_ all friends. Working together and making music together is an experience that kind-of binds us."

"I get that part," David remarked. "I remember feeling like that when the football team did that halftime show with the glee club."

"So, then, the ego thing?" Kurt began to explain. "It's like, okay, you play right guard, right?"

"Yeah," David spoke, surprised that Kurt knew the position he played.

"You know you're good, but the coach wants someone else to start in that position. It would probably bother you, right?"

"Yeah it would," David answered. "I guess I see your point."

"I mean, solidarity, the glee club has that," Kurt added, "We always have each others' backs, but there's always infighting."

There was a pause before David spoke. "Y'know, back when we were rehearsing for that halftime thing, Mr. Shuester pulled me aside and told me that I was good at it." David paused again, thinking. "Do you think he was just saying that to get me to stop picking on the glee kids, which I stopped right then anyway, or do you think he meant that? I mean, you know him better than I do."

"Probably some of both, David. Mr. Schue sees talent in just about everyone. He also knows that talent needs to be encouraged and developed. The thing is, he's right about all those things. I don't doubt at all that you could be talented in that way, David. You're a smart guy. You could probably do just about anything that you set your mind to do. And, yeah, I'm sure that, in the back of Mr Schue's mind was this feeling that maybe that would get you to stop harassing the glee club people. He's the one who's endlessly idealistic and believes that getting us to sing and dance out our differences actually works. And it does most of the time."

David exhaled, like a half-laugh. "I just see myself as clumsy and big. I've seen how you people dance, and I don't think that I would look like I belonged there at all."

"Well, Finn was a pretty terrible dancer when we first started out. He's still not very good; but he is our lead male most of the time, and we have won competitions."

"Well," David dragged out, "it's too late for me to think about anything like that right now anyway."

Kurt was silent for a moment before speaking. "I think that, as much as I've come to know you, and most of it has surprised me in completely pleasant ways, David, I don't see even the David that I know now being part of a glee club. I could see him enjoying watching us perform, but actually being in the club and performing? I don't see that."

"I'd have never admitted it," David spoke, still scratchy, "but I did actually like watching you people perform sometimes."

"Well," Kurt said, "maybe I found my bedtime story."

"What's that?" David voiced somewhat less rough than earlier.

"Imagining how the glee club would have been with the friendly, thoughtful, and intelligent, if occasionally wise-ass, David Karofsky as a member."

David laughed aloud, trying to be quiet. "Oh, yeah? Then you'd have to remove all competition wins from that story, I think."

Both boys laughed and then were silent for a few moments. David was smiling to himself as Kurt spoke. "David, thank you for calling me at this late hour. I think it actually helped."

"It's not really that late, Kurt, and, well, I was awake anyway. I keep weird hours sometimes. If you ever have trouble sleeping, text me or something. If I'm awake, I'd probably be up for talking."

"Thank you, David. I might take you up on that, and I'll try to not make you sorry for having just offered."

David laughed again. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, just me being silly." Kurt paused paused before saying, quietly, "Good night, David."

"Good night, Kurt."

The call ended, and David smiled to himself. Talking to and laughing with Kurt had apparently done the trick. David felt himself, smile still pleasant and very-much on his face, drifting into comfortable sleep for the night.

 

* * *

 

Kurt set his phone back on the bedside table, returning it to its charger. He lay on his back for a while, rolling thoughts from the conversation with David through his mind. Eventually, he turned on his side and pulled a big, overstuffed pillow next to him, against his chest, letting his head fall into the softness, his hand pulling the pillow gently into him, his body curling slightly into the thick pillow; and sleep found him shortly.

 

**Saturday March 17**

It was just after breakfast on Saturday morning when Kurt called Blaine directly, bypassing text-message etiquette.

"Hello!" the tinny voice on the phone greeted Kurt.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt greeted back. "How is your morning so far?"

"Good so far. Just finished breakfast and was helping mom clean up the kitchen. You?"

"Honestly, about the same right now, Blaine. I did check into some things we might want to do this afternoon."

"So did I, Kurt," Blaine said, cheerful that Kurt showed enough interest to find some options. "What did you find?"

"Well, there's an art fair and student art show at the Allen County Community College along with a food festival there this weekend," Kurt began. "It's on from one o'clock to seven. I was thinking that if the food looked good and they had a decent place to sit down and eat, we could eat there after checking out the artwork."

"That sounds good," Blaine remarked, sounding positive. "I was going to suggest hanging out the OSU Lima campus because there's this coffee house there I heard some really wild things about. I was thinking I'd like to check it out."

"What's so special about this coffee house, Blaine?"

"Well, it's just supposed to be this really hip college-kinda place; and they have live music on Saturdays, so that might be cool. Really, that's all I had planned, but maybe we could go to the art show and food fair earlier in the day and go to the coffee house later for dessert."

"That sounds promising, Blaine: the whole thing. My idea and yours."

"Well, then, should I meet you at the community college and go from there?" Blaine asked, "And what time?"

"Is three o'clock good?" Kurt suggested. "That will give us a few hours to look around and it's close enough to dinnertime."

"That sounds good, Kurt," Blaine replied. "I'll see you then."

"Okay, Blaine. See you at three. Bye, Blaine."

"Goodbye, Kurt."

As Kurt ended the call, he was still not sure how he felt about Blaine, but the plan sounded refreshing at least.

Kurt wanted to touch base with David before he went out for the day, and, knowing David had planned to spend at least part of the afternoon with his father, he took the present time as the best to send David a text message.

Kurt: _Good morning, David. How are you today?_ 9:50 AM

Kurt's phone rang immediately in response.

"Hi, David," Kurt greeted into the phone.

"Hey, Kurt," David sounded like he was breathing heavily, but his voice was clear and loud.

"What are you doing, David, you sound winded."

"I just got back upstairs from lifting, that's all."

"You lift early," Kurt observed.

"I lift whenever I have time to do it," David explained. "Actually, I usually lift first thing, but I slept a little late and Dad was already up, so I ate breakfast first and waited an hour before I lifted. Can't lift right after eating."

"Did you sleep well, David?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, I did," David answered. "That's why I didn't get up at my normal time, I think. I usually jump right out of bed, no point in delaying the inevitable, right? But this morning, it felt so good that I just stayed there for another half-hour longer than usual." David paused for a moment. "Did you construct a bedtime story about me being in the McKinley glee club?" David punctuated the question with a good-natured laugh.

"No, but I did have an excellent night's sleep after our talk," Kurt admitted after laughing quietly. "Did your dad make breakfast?"

"Ha, you’re funny. His logic was that he was going to be cooking this afternoon, so we had the leftover cold pizza from yesterday's dinner."

"David," Kurt scolded, jokingly, "You and your dad are incorrigible."

"Yeah?" David responded in good-natured challenge, "You wouldn't have me any other way, and you know it, Hummel."

Both boys laughed. David spoke again. "So, did you and Blaine come up with something to do for today?"

"Yes, actually, we both came up with some ideas, and it looks like we'll get to do some of each."

"Well, that's cool," David offered. "I was going to say that if you didn't come up with anything, I'd be great with hanging with the two of you again. It was fun when we did that last time."

"Yeah," Kurt felt dismissive even if he tried to sound enthusiastic.

"So," David asked, "What are the two of you doing today?"

"Well, there's this art fair and student art show at the community college," Kurt explained. "We thought we'd go see that and maybe eat there because there's a food festival also. Then there's this coffee house near the OSU Lima campus that Blaine heard about and wants to go to."

"Oh, man, does he mean Moo-Lah-Lah?" David asked while laughing.

"Um, I don't know. I just know that it's near OSU Lima, and they have live music and it's supposed to be hip or something like that."

"That's gotta be the place," David said, laughing. "I went there with some of the football team when I was still going to McKinley. Something tells me you aren't going to dig it much, Kurt."

"Why?" Kurt was on the verge of a laugh. "What's it like?"

"Well, it was a Saturday night when we went," David began. "Several of us from the team went out toward OSU Lima, and we'd been drinking beer and heard about the place so we went there. Kurt, I'm not the hippest guy in the world, but I can tell fake-hip if I'm beat over the head with it. I know poseurs who would frown on the place."

"Oh my." Kurt rolled his eyes adding a chuckle. "Are we talking that it's so bad that it's good?"

"That has never completely worked for me, the so-bad-it's-good thing, but, like, there was a hot-looking chick dressed in a cow-print black-and-white-spotted bikini wearing a giant cow-mask. The only really great thing about the whole experience was that Strando kept hitting on her."

"Oh, no!" Kurt laughed. "That's priceless!"

"It's the stuff that memories are made of," David added. "I know that, if I run into Strando twenty years from now, I'm always gonna be able to remind him of the hot chick in the cow mask, and we'll always be able to get a good laugh out of it."

"Honestly, David, if you weren't already committed to spending time with your dad today, I'd ask you to come along," Kurt said as a friendly gesture.

"Uh," David sounded as if his mood dropped. "I don't know how I'd feel about just going out like that."

"David," Kurt reminded, "You were out with Sean and me the other day."

"For, like, twenty-five minutes," David reminded. "I was in a car most of the time. I had, like, five minutes of public exposure."

"Yeah, okay, David, but I am going to get you out of the house to do something fun sometime soon."

"Okay," David resigned. "Deal. But I just don't know how ready for that I am right now."

"No problem, David. I don't want to push you too hard, but..."

"Yeah, I know," David interjected. "I am going to need to get out to collect interviews for my project and put the whole thing together also, so it's inevitable. That will get me out whether I think I am ready or not." David paused, finally saying, "Sorry if I brought your mood down, Kurt."

"No," Kurt snapped quickly but not angrily. "You didn't bring my mood down, David. I'm actually now looking forward to the cow-headed bikini girl."

"Well, I should probably let you go so you can get ready for your excursion," David said. "Besides, I wanna jump in the shower and maybe take a look at some of my schoolwork before Dad and I get started on burning the house down."

Kurt laughed. "Okay, David. Talk later?"

"Sounds good, Kurt. Have a good time today."

"Thanks. Goodbye, David."

 

* * *

  

It was five-minutes-past-three. Even when he was on relationship-probation, Blaine was habitually late, Kurt thought to himself as he waited and scoped the parking lot for Blaine's car. Kurt didn't wait very long, though; by three-fifteen, Kurt saw Blaine's car approach from the far side of the Allen County Community College campus parking lot.

Blaine parked his car next to Kurt's Navigator, and the two greeted briefly and made their way toward the gallery entrance to the complex of buildings. Both boys were dressed rather casually today. This had been Kurt's typical look lately, though he did wear one of his signature-dressy ensembles to school on Wednesday: he said that the day just called for it (secretly, though, he didn't want to be accused of "selling out").

The two strolled through the gallery leisurely, taking in the sights of typical (and typically odd) student art projects. Many were actually quite well-rendered, much to the boys' pleasant surprise. Kurt lingered to take in some of the pieces for longer periods of time than Blaine who seemed to spend less time overall looking at the various artworks. Both boys did enjoy themselves, and Blaine did confess a fondness for a particularly large photograph which depicted a monochrome clock face with the profile of an actual person's face hidden within it.

Just outside the main gallery was the area where local artists and artisans had booths set up and were selling small pieces of art. These took many different forms from small watercolor paintings and photographs to handmade jewelry to glass suncatchers and pottery. Both of the boys stopped at one booth where an artist was selling handmade glass jewelry. These were primarily rings, pendants, and brooches with swirls of metallic elements and free-form streaks of color. Kurt singled-out one ring in particular. It consisted entirely of shiny black glass save for a wide diagonal stripe in the center which was bright pink in color. It fit his pinky perfectly; and, unlike most of the all-glass rings, this particular one wasn't overly large: it appeared as a proportionate size against Kurt's hand. Kurt paid ten dollars for the piece. He didn't want to wear it just yet, so he slipped it into his tasteful leather man-bag.

The two then proceeded to the cafeteria where the food fair was occurring. There were many different types of food there: many ethnic specialties with an emphasis on Irish food as it was Saint Patrick's Day, a fact which eluded Kurt earlier in the day until Blaine reminded him as they walked past the tables of various food items. Kurt was happy to find some healthy options and decided upon a piece of vegetarian lasagna; Blaine, keeping with the spirit of the holiday, had a generous piece of shepherd's pie.

"This was a pretty good idea, Kurt," Blaine opined between bites of his dinner.

"I'm enjoying myself," Kurt answered. "I'm glad you're liking it, Blaine. I was beginning to wonder when we were walking through the gallery. You seemed maybe a little impatient."

"Yeah," Blaine said, "admittedly, it's rare that I want to look at a piece of art for a long time, but you seemed to really like some of them."

Kurt shrugged, tilting his head. "Maybe I'm just trying to get a feel for what the artist's idea might be."

The two finished their dinners and left the cafeteria in the direction from which they entered. They were both happy with the food they'd eaten, and it was a new experience for both of them. On their return trip through the gallery, Kurt was struck by a painting which he'd missed on his way through the earlier time. It was a wide horizontal canvas, raw and unframed, displayed only on its wood stretcher bars. It was a dark painting depicting a lone figure in the center with two groups of figures, one group on each side. The group of figures to the left of the central figure wore faces of sadness and shame, one figure which appeared to be a young woman covering her face with her hands completely in grief; the group on the right side displayed mocking, menacing faces and angry smiles. The painting was primarily in black and white with a few touches of color; the figures' clothing was rendered loosely without much detail; but the faces were clear and strong, if not incredibly detailed. Most striking to Kurt was the face of the central figure: half in shadow, half in light. It was unmistakably David. Kurt then noticed one of the figures on the left bore more than a passing resemblance to Sean; and one face on the right side, a face which bore a smug grin seemed familiar as well, though Kurt couldn't place the person.

"This is amazing," Kurt whispered, nearly gasped to Blaine.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Blaine acknowledged, not noticing the likenesses. "Hey, Kurt, I'm gonna go find a restroom, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said instinctively, getting further drawn into the image. Kurt studied the painting, backing away slightly, eyes exploring all corners and edges.

"Do you like it?" A girl's voice jolted Kurt out of his rapt state. "It's called 'For a Comrade'. It's not complete, but I wanted to show it."

Kurt turned to look at the source of the voice. She was short with black hair, icy eyes, and a curvy figure dressed in black jeans, a black vest, and a tightly-fitting black-and-white horizontally striped shirt. Kurt's expression betrayed great astonishment, near awe. "The painting is incredible."

"Thanks," the girl gave Kurt a hint of a smile.

Kurt turned back to the painting for a moment, then looked back upon the girl. "Is your name 'Gretchen'?" he asked.

Her face fell to a slightly wary expression. "Yeah," she answered sounding tough. "Who are you?"

"My name's Kurt," Kurt spoke slowly, still awed by the situation. "I'm a friend of David's." Kurt pointed in the direction of the canvas, mouth still agape. "That's him, isn't it?"

The girl's face relaxed to a smile. "Sean told me about you." She approached closer to Kurt and hugged him. Kurt normally would have been uncomfortable by being approached and embraced by a stranger, but Gretchen and he had an understood connection to David in common. "How is Dave?" she asked Kurt, her face pressed lightly against his chest.

Kurt stepped back from the embrace and smiled, taking the girl in with his eyes. "David is good. I speak to him just about every day."

"Sean says he's doing okay; he talks to him frequently also." Gretchen smiled as she spoke. "I really miss him."

"Gretchen, you could probably contact him any time," Kurt said quietly, almost pleading. "I'm sure he'd be very happy to hear from you."

"Kurt," Gretchen was equally sincere as she shook her head slightly. "David pushed all of us away at one point. It was almost hostile. It's hard to understand. He did kinda make up with us at one point, but everyone, Dave included, kept their distance."

"Sean didn't have a problem getting in touch with him," Kurt reminded.

"Well, everyone's different," Gretchen answered. "And I maybe said some pretty harsh things to Dave, things I wish I hadn't said. Sean was a little closer to Dave than the rest of that crowd. I think I was maybe closer than Sean, though."

Kurt exhaled loudly then spoke. "Let's just arrange to get together sometime. We'll get David out of his house, which I believe is something he really needs, and get him together with the people who really want to see him. I think it would do him an immeasurable amount of good to see how many people really miss him."

"Tell you what," Gretchen spoke to Kurt directly, "If you arrange that, get that going, you can definitely count on me being in."

Kurt smiled in response, turning back to look at the painting. Gretchen added, "Just let Sean know if you want to set something like that up."

"Still admiring this painting?" Blaine said, returning from the restroom.

"Yes," Kurt said, "I was just talking to the artist." Kurt turned to introduce Blaine to Gretchen, but she was gone. "She's... she was here a second ago." Kurt's face turned puzzled. "She goes to Thurston. She knows David and Sean." Kurt pointed toward the face of the figure in the center of the painting.

"That's cool, Blaine answered. "I was jus... whoa," Blaine noticed exactly where Kurt was pointing. "That's Karofsky. She's really good."

Blaine spent a few moments taking in the painting while Kurt visually scanned the gallery in vain for Gretchen before the two young men left the building for their visit to the other planned stop. They climbed into Kurt's Navigator and departed.

"So," Kurt began, "is this coffee house we're going to called Moo-Lah-Lah?"

"Yes, that's the place; I couldn't think of the name before," Blaine sounded enthusiastic. "How'd you know?"

"I was talking with David today, and he'd mentioned that he'd been there."

"Oh yeah? What did he say about it?"

"Well," Kurt began, not wanting to sound negative, "he said he was there one night when he was out drinking with the guys from the McKinley football team, so I guess he didn't remember much."

As the Navigator approached the campus, the two began to notice an increasing amount of pedestrian traffic; the deeper they proceeded toward the college, the thicker and less cautious to vehicles the crowds became.

"What is wrong with these people?" Kurt asked, incredulous. "That guy just about walked right out in front of me!"

"Uh, it's a college town on Saint Patrick's Day," Blaine explained carefully. "They probably all started drinking at around noon." Blaine appeared suddenly frightened that he hadn't considered that when suggesting the trip.

Kurt shook his head in exasperation. "Maybe we should just park here and walk to the coffee house," he suggested.

"Yeah," Blaine chimed back, "Solid idea."

Luckily, Kurt was able to pull his vehicle into a parking garage, feeling very fortunate that it wasn't filled to capacity. Kurt and Blaine embarked on foot through crowded streets to walk three blocks to the coffee shop, dodging drunk revelers regularly.

Inside the coffeehouse, the walls were painted in psychedelic swirls of color with ornate trim moulding in harsh primary colors, the cafe chairs and tables were painted in the same harsh primary colors (save for a few which were painted in checkerboard, harlequin diamond, or black-and-white zigzag patterns), and there were subtle references to drug use and paraphernalia everywhere (most of these eluded Kurt and Blaine as they are good kids; though the ornate collection of waterpipes displayed on a high shelf which bore an emphatic sign reading "BONGS ARE ORNAMENTAL NOT FOR SALE OR USE" were understood by the two boys). There was indeed live music in the form of a reggae band set up at one of the far corners of the rather small room. In the center of the far wall was the coffee bar and a case filled with dessert items; standing by the self-serve condiment counter was the infamous hot-girl-in-a-bikini-with-a-giant-cow-mask (although on this day, she was dressed in a button-down shirt, tails tied into a knot exposing her navel, and cut-off denim shorts à la Daisy Duke). There was a couple in one of the booths engaged in an intense makeout session and a fair amount of people scattered around, sitting at the tables. Some of them appeared to be enjoying the music which was far too loud for the small room (Blaine and Kurt had to yell at each other to be heard above the music).

Kurt and Blaine approached the counter, picked out dessert items from the case, and ordered beverages. Kurt wasn't in the mood for a caramel latte, opting instead for the coffee-of-the-day (an Irish-cream flavor) and a slice of cheesecake; Blaine ordered a triple-mocha latte and a slice of carrot cake. Kurt apprehensively approached the condiment counter and the girl in the cow mask courteously dispensed cream into his cup until he signalled her to stop: _creepy_ , Kurt thought, and he kinda had his heart set on seeing the cow-print bikini.

The two took a table as far away from the action as they could near the exit door. Kurt was having a difficult time containing his laughter while Blaine appeared unsure of everything in his surroundings.

"What do you think of the band?" Blaine yelled across the tiny table to Kurt.

Kurt yelled back, "Sounds like they're good musicians, but it also sounds like this might be the first time they ever played together; and they're too loud for this small space."

Blaine wasn't sure what to make of the first part of Kurt's assessment. "How's your cheesecake?" Blaine yelled over the din.

"Oh, it's actually good," Kurt made his voice as loud as he could without stressing his vocal cords. "The coffee is really good too. Yours?"

"Everything's really good, uh, except the place and everything in it," Blaine yelled, trying to sound apologetic while raising his voice. "I'm really kinda sorry; I didn't expect that it'd be like this."

Kurt smiled. "I'm actually liking this, I mean, it's an experience." Kurt craned his head and looked around. "You know that big blonde kid on the McKinley football team who asked me about David a few times?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"David said that when they came here, the blonde kid kept hitting on the girl in the cow mask!" Kurt said with a huge smile.

Blaine's face pulled into a smile, unsure of which reaction would be most appropriate. The two continued to eat their desserts and finish their coffee, looking up occasionally to catch glimpses of people coming or going past them.

The two of them sat there, looking around the place for a few minutes after finishing their coffee when a college-age couple walked in. The couple had obviously been drinking and the girl was being held upright by the young man who accompanied her. The couple walked past the table where Kurt and Blaine were sitting, then the girl stopped dead in her tracks. Kurt and Blaine watched as the boy tried to get the girl to move forward while the girl lifted her head up and vomited with the seeming force of a firehose onto a vacant table in front of her.

Kurt and Blaine both looked at each other: Kurt seemed strangely amused while Blaine was horrified. "I think it's time to leave," the pair yelled at each other in unison.

They rose from their chairs and exited the doors as quickly as possible while they could hear the boy behind them trying to console his drunk girlfriend by repeating in a drunken slur, "Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." as he mopped her face with napkins from a tabletop dispenser.

The walk back to the parking garage required dodging even more drunk pedestrians than before. "At least they're not driving," Kurt observed.

As they neared the garage, one drunk, possibly high, girl became fascinated with the lacquered sheen of Blaine's hair and began touching it as he walked past her, cooing gently as she petted his coiffure. Blaine was slightly paralyzed by the event, so much so that Kurt had to grab his forearm and nearly drag him out of her grasp.

The two finally returned to the car and began on the road back to the community college to reunite Blaine with his car. Kurt seemed in good spirits: light hearted and smiling. Blaine was tense but tried to be receptive.

"I guess you found all of that funny?" Blaine asked, not accusing though perhaps a bit shaken, just making conversation.

"Yeah," Kurt confirmed, "And your reaction to it was funny, especially considering the times I've seen you react to alcohol yourself."

Blaine's expression soured a bit. "What do you mean by _that_ , Kurt?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and huffed. "Blaine, I've seen you get drunk twice. Once I watched you make out with Rachel Berry; the aftereffect of this was a weeklong identity crisis in which you thought you might be straight or bisexual or something. The second resulted in you trying to convince me to have sex with you in the backseat of my car in the parking lot of a trashy bar."

Blaine fought the urge to be downright appalled. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, thinking that he might not have a case. Finally, after about a minute of silence, he said, "Yeah, the Rachel thing was stupid, and the backseat thing was because I was trying to lose my virginity before opening night of the musical." Blaine realized that possibly he shouldn't have confessed the second part.

Kurt looked at Blaine, a comically-puzzled expression. "What was that about losing your virginity before the musical?"

Blaine exhaled and shook his head guiltily. "Artie told me and Rachel that he didn't think we were convincing as sexually-active kids on stage if we had never experienced sex itself and suggested that we lose our virginity before the musical opened. It was stupid. Neither of us made good on that suggestion anyway."

Kurt rolled his eyes. " _That's_ what that was all about? I'm not sure which would have been worse: you being all over me because you were drunk or you being all over me for something that amounted to an unethical school assignment." Kurt nearly laughed.

Blaine was surprised. "You're not upset at that?"

"No, Blaine, it was months ago. Really, it upset me more at the time that you left angry that night." Kurt focused on the road ahead as he drove. "Dealing with you when you're drunk is kinda fun, but you do have a tendency to do things of, um, questionable judgement. Or impaired judgement might be better."

The two remained silent for a while until Blaine spoke again. "It kinda bums me out that your reaction is so, like, casual about that stuff."

"What 'stuff'?"

"Like the stuff that happened when I got drunk those couple of times," Blaine said.

"Blaine," Kurt said, trying to sound decisive, "It bothered me at the time, but that was months ago, really." Kurt exhaled loudly again. "It just might be a good idea to watch how much you drink in the future."

Blaine was coming to the realization that the general indifference on Kurt's part might actually be an indicator that something in the relationship they had might be indeed lost.

They returned to the community college, and Kurt told Blaine that he had an interesting time,and he meant that in a positive way. Blaine didn't share Kurt's positive assessment of the day, however. The two politely said their goodbyes and parted for the evening.

Kurt returned home just before eight o'clock to find Burt and Carole curled up on the couch with the television on. He greeted them and told them he was out with Blaine. This prompted no reaction from either.

Retiring to his bedroom, possibly for the rest of the night, Kurt sent a text message to David, and his phone rang within the minute.

"Good evening, David," Kurt greeted brightly.

"Hi, Kurt. How was your Saturday?"

"It was actually pretty great, David. How did the cooking experiment turn out?"

"Oh, really good, actually; and the house is still here."

"Well, that's a promising thing, David," Kurt laughed. "How was the actual food?"

"Ah, it was pretty killer. Dad says he's going to do that every couple of days: scope out some easy-sounding recipe and make dinner. Maybe I'll actually learn how to cook in all of this."

"You can't cook at all, David?"

"Ah, I do okay. I can cook easy stuff. If left alone, I wouldn't starve." David paused for a moment before speaking again. "So, tell me about your day, Kurt."

"David, you'll never guess who I met today."

"Kurt, you're probably right, so I'm not even going to try."

"Oh, c'mon, one guess?" Kurt pried.

"Oh, um, one of those _Twilight_ guys?"

"Oh, geeze, no, David. I met your friend Gretchen. She had a painting in that art show."

"Oh," David spoke slowly, measured. "Wow. Did you talk to her at all?"

"Yes, well, I kinda figured out that it might be her from the way you and Sean had talked about her, and I just introduced myself as your friend, and she hugged me."

"That sounds like Gretchen," David said, still processing the information.

"She seems very-much like someone who doesn't put any distance between what she's thinking and feeling and what she says and does."

David laughed quietly. "Yeah, you nailed her personality with that, definitely. Did you and Blaine go to the coffee house?"

"Oh yes. I enjoyed the experience. The cow-headed hot-girl was there, the music was too loud, and I watched a drunk girl projectile-vomit onto one of the tables. It was like an R-rated Chuck E. Cheese for the chemically-inclined."

David broke into a loud peal of laughter.

"I think, like you said before, these are the things memories are made of," Kurt clarified. "Blaine, though, was nonplussed by the place. The coffee and desserts were very good, though. Elsewhere, we fought through a college town filled with Saint Patrick's Day partiers who probably began drinking at noon."

"Sounds like quite an experience, Kurt."

"I had a good time, David. Not the best time I've ever had, but a far better time than last Saturday. I do need to say that I would have enjoyed myself even more if I was with someone who could appreciate the absurdity of it all. That usually isn't Blaine."

There were a few moments of silence before David spoke again. "Big week coming up, Kurt?"

"Mmmm," Kurt thought, "No, not much I can think of except the normal school stuff."

"Cool."

The silence seemed to hang between them for a while.

"What were you doing when I texted you, David?" Kurt finally asked.

"Nothing, really. Looking at this week's assignments in my books. Rupert has gotten to the point that he gives me my lesson plans a week in advance because I'm generally ahead of where the rest of the classes are."

"That's good, David."

Odd silence hung between them again.

"Besides dinner," Kurt asked, "did you do anything interesting with your dad today?"

"We talked while we were making dinner and we watched some TV together for a while." David thought for a moment. "You know, Kurt, as much as I know my dad feels bad for me, I feel bad for him. His wife left; and I was the cause of all of that, regardless of what he tells me. I think about him being lonely, and it just kinda kills me sometimes."

"I understand, David. It was just my dad and me for a long time. But these things have a way of working out. Your dad is sticking by you, and that's huge."

"Yeah, I know. I'd be nowhere without him, literally."

"Well, David, regardless of how alone he might feel, I'm sure he wouldn't be anywhere else right now."

At that , David smiled. He knew it was true, and he felt secure and safe in that.

After a another span of silence passed, David spoke. "Well, it sounds like you had a long day, and you probably want to get to sleep soon. I don't want to keep you up if that's the case."

"Well, I wasn't doing anything specific, but I do feel the experiences of the day catching up with my energy-level, I must admit," Kurt agreed.

"Well, then, I should let you wind-down. Thanks for talking, Kurt."

"Thanks for warning me about the cow-headed girl." Both Kurt and David laughed. "Good night, David." Kurt spoke softly.

David felt a contented laugh rising, but it arrived as only a sort-of half-laugh. "Good night, Kurt." 

 

**Tuesday March 20**

The weekend progressed and ended in a predictable fashion for Kurt; the same could be said for the beginning of the week. Despite the unremarkable way in which the week began, he had some difficulty keeping in touch with David. After a typically friendly conversation with David on Sunday evening, Kurt found himself occupied after school on Monday, dealing with a minor Rachel Berry meltdown while Finn was occupied at Burt's garage (by the time Finn was informed of the situation, Kurt had successfully defused Rachel's issue-of-the-moment). Though Kurt and David had volleyed a few text messages back-and-forth during the day, Kurt didn't get a chance to speak to David until just before dinner, and, even then, David had told Kurt that Sean would be stopping by that evening to keep David abreast of class discussion topics and other things not covered specifically in the texts (truth told, these meetings were giving Sean a distinct edge in the classes as David was already working on the next week's material in many cases). Kurt was fully expecting to hear from David later Monday evening, but he never did. Kurt assumed that Sean perhaps stayed later than usual and David perhaps assumed that Kurt was asleep. This was something that Kurt actually appreciated: talkative as David often is, he's always conscious of Kurt's sleep schedule; and Sean's presence left Kurt feeling like David's contact with the outside world was less of a personal responsibility of Kurt's (and it bothered Kurt to consider David in terms of being a responsibility, but that's how it honestly felt to Kurt sometimes).

Tuesday was much-the-same as Monday. Kurt hadn't heard from David the previous evening, and Kurt felt rushed in the morning, not sending a text message to David early, then not mid-morning either, fearing he'd be a distraction during David's morning work with his tutor.

Though no late-afternoon crisis confronted Kurt this particular day, he still found himself occupied after school: Sue Sylvester's drill-sergeant approach to dance lessons left all of the glee club members is a state of absolute commiseration which manifested itself in an extended whining session, cutting into Kurt's after-school/pre-dinner time. Finally, after he'd finished his dinner in the typically-empty early-evening weeknight Hummel-Hudson house, Kurt made himself comfortable and dialed David's number.

"Hello." David's voice was loud and indifferent-sounding: not the abrupt, quiet, near-mumble which characterizes one of his lesser moods, but certainly not cheerful.

"Hello, David! How are you?"

"I'm okay." David was still loud and clear, still indifferent-sounding. "How're things with you, Kurt?"

"It's been a busy few days for me."

"That's cool." David countered abruptly. It almost seemed like he should have followed it with the phrase 'must be nice'.

Kurt spoke more measured, cautious this time. "It's been a couple of days since we talked. How have you been?"

There was a pause before David answered. "I've been okay. Same as I have been."

Kurt waited before speaking, trying to decode David's tone. "So, did Sean visit you last night?"

"Yeah," David's answer was quick. "I guess that takes some of the responsibility off of you." David wished he hadn't said that. If he'd have thought about it for a second before he spoke, it would have remained unsaid.

Kurt, on the other hand, was pained by the statement. David did sometimes feel like a responsibility; but Kurt always felt that he was careful to not give David that impression.

"Okay, David, I don't know where that came from," Kurt began. "I am trying my best where you are concerned. I thought it would be a lot harder than it is: it's been easy to get to know you, but sometimes you hit me with some attitude that I don't understand. I love talking to you, I love the way your mind works, and I'm really proud of this person you've become, David. The thing is... "

"Aw, _man_ ," David interrupted Kurt. "What _is_ that? I mean, what _exactly is_ that? You're not my _dad_. You're not one of my _teachers_. Where do you get this idea that you have some stake in me that you can get off saying that you're _proud_ of me? I don't ever recall being in some mentorship arrangement with you, Hummel."

 

* * *

 

David didn't know how many of those sentences had been heard by Kurt. By the time he finished, the phone call had ended; Kurt had hung up on him.

David sat down on the floor of his bedroom, disgusted in himself, trying to trace what exactly led him to speak that way to Kurt. Since the time they'd been defined as 'friends', Kurt hadn't ever hung up on David. Kurt hadn't done anything the least bit rude or even uncaring where David was concerned. This was a flashback to the way David felt when he was at McKinley but without the outward hostility: the rage was internalized.

David remained sitting on the floor as the oncoming dusk darkened the windows, David's desk lamp throwing a pool of light which spilled just sufficient enough to dimly illuminate the entire room in the approaching dark. As alone as he'd felt at times recently, he'd never felt this alone, and he could only blame himself for the profound sense of abandonment that settled in the pit of his stomach, causing him to develop a definite nausea. He'd been sitting there for about twenty minutes, rolling his conversation with Kurt around in his head, when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"Come in," David spoke clearly but quietly.

His bedroom door opened and Kurt stepped in. David's body language betrayed fear, as if he were bracing himself for some physical attack. "What are you doing here, Kurt?" David spoke almost meekly, a roughness apparent in his voice, his eyes afraid to look upward.

Kurt closed the door behind himself and spoke clearly and precisely at a quiet but plainly audible conversational volume. "Don't talk; just listen to me. I don't know why you spoke to me like that. When I think about what you said, you're right, but it sounds like you intended to hurt me or make me angry. David, I won't suffer that kind of behavior from you again. I don't want to hear you apologize to me again either. Tomorrow we go back to the way we were yesterday, when we were talking like regular people, when we related to each other as friends."

David looked up at Kurt, an uncertain but benign expression on his face.

"David, if you talk like that to me again, I'm done with this."

"I don't deserve another chance, Kurt."

"Be quiet and listen, David." David dropped his gaze away from Kurt and back to the floor. "Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe you don't deserve another chance. But maybe I'm doing this for me. I don't think you can deny that we enjoy each other's company, and I look forward to the times that we spend together, David, but I will put up with only so much."

"You have a history of running away from things. When you can't run away from something that threatens you, you find a way to push it away. David, you ran away from me after you kissed me. You ran away from Blaine and me when we tried to help you the next day. You made it so bad for me that I had to leave McKinley. You ran away at the prom. You ran away from McKinley. You pushed away all of your friends at Thurston. You tried to run away by killing yourself, David. Now it feels like you're pushing me away. Again. I know you're a smart guy. _You_ know you're intelligent. Can you maybe find some strength in yourself so you can stop running and pushing people away from you? I care about you, David; and it's not just out of pity or something, I _really_ care about you, but I have a limit. I know it didn't help before, but it's just possible that you need professional help, David."

"You've gotta get out of this house once in a while, David. Start small. You and your dad are invited to the Hummel-Hudson house for dinner this Saturday evening. You don't have a choice in this unless you're deathly ill or something; I've already discussed this with your dad, and he's on board. That's all. I'll talk to you tomorrow, David."

With that, Kurt turned around, walked through the threshold, and closed the door behind himself.

David's mind was calmed somewhat. Kurt was forgiving far beyond anything David felt he deserved, but that was exactly what made David feel slightly better at the moment. Kurt's direct-but-civil, nearly _polite_ , delivery burned; David would have rather Kurt yelled at him. As horrid as David felt, there were no tears: he couldn't cry for himself, he didn't deserve even the luxury of shedding those tears. He felt low, and he'd earned it.

Once again, David sat in the solitude of his bedroom when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"Come in," David sounded far more hoarse than earlier.

The door opened and Paul stood in the doorway. He stepped slowly into David's bedroom while David stood slowly.

"Sit down, David, you and I are going to talk," Paul spoke clearly and softly.

David sat on the trunk at the foot of his bed; Paul sat next to him. "I know something is wrong. I can see it in the way you act. Kurt obviously knew. He showed up unannounced and was very serious when I let him in. David, I want to help you if I can. Please allow me to try." Paul paused, measuring his next sentence. "What's wrong, David?"

David turned and looked at his father. He had an element of anger in his eyes, but it was unfocused, perhaps internalized. "I put Kurt through a lot of hell at McKinley, Dad."

 

Paul looked intently at David, nodding. He knew this part. David continued.

"After everything I did to him, he sincerely wanted to help me. He saw that part of me for who I was before anyone else knew, he saw my struggle, and he was kind when he had every right to delight in my pain. And when I was finally coming to grips with myself, he took me on as a friend. Dad, I thought I was having feelings for him and those feelings went back a long way."

After a silence, Paul spoke. "You say that he knew about you before anyone else. Did you tell him?"

David's face pained and his eyes began to get heavy with tears. "No, Dad. Not voluntarily and not in so many words."

Paul made a confounded expression and asked, "I don't understand, David."

"Dad, it was right when I singled Kurt out. I was throwing him into lockers every time I saw him. Sometimes I'd go out of my way to abuse him. Dad, I was terrible with Kurt."

"Can you maybe tell me why, David. I don't understand that part."

"I was trying to crush the fact that I was attracted to men. He didn't have a problem owning that part of him it. He was proud of it. I felt that he and I couldn't coexist, or maybe I just couldn't reconcile his existence in my world, where I'd had it in my head that it was wrong and something to be ashamed of, not something that someone should make public, let alone actually be proud of. The more I realized things about myself, the harder I pushed against it. And if I couldn't acknowledge that about myself, I couldn't allow it for anyone if I could help it."

"Dad, anyone who says this is easy or thinks this is a choice, I'm proof that they're wrong. I fought this with everything I had, and the whole time, it made me a bad person, a completely hateful person. I might not be exactly right in the head now, but I feel a lot healthier upstairs than I did then."

Paul took David's hand into his and spoke, "I know it's not a choice, David. I can see how hard it's been for you."

"One day, Kurt chased after me after I threw him into a locker." David looked away from Paul. "He followed me into the locker room and he started yelling at me, really harsh. I threw a couple of stupid insults back at him, but the stuff he was saying was really getting to me. Part of me felt like he was challenging me, but I know that wasn't true." David's voice was getting rougher, lumped, on the edge of crying. "I think I wanted to prove to him that he wanted me; or maybe I just wanted him. I grabbed him by his head, pulled him in and..." David gasped, tears spilling from his eyes, "I kissed him."

Paul continued to listen. He put his arm around David's shoulder, trying to calm him as he talked.

"And even after all that, Dad, I had to threaten him, like I was going to kill him if he told anyone. Yeah, I really did that. By the time he came back to McKinley, I was halfway to accepting myself, and Kurt could see everything. He never told anyone, he tried to help me, and he was patient. He showed me more kindness and respect than I deserved. I saw that kindness and patience, and I wanted to be close to him. I hadn't seen him in months when I was at Thurston, but then I ran into him, and I realized that I had feelings for him for everything he did to try to help me. I mean, I didn't really know Kurt then. I told him how much I felt that he meant to me, and he told me that it just wasn't logical for me to feel that way. Okay, it hurt a lot when he told me that, but he was right; and when I thought about it, I rationalized those feelings, and we became friends."

"What's got me is, right now, I actually _do_ know Kurt now, and I think those feelings are coming back, and I know he doesn't feel the same way."

Paul pulled against David's shoulder and took one of David's hands into his. Paul spoke quietly and gently as David sniffed through stray sobs and intermittent tears. "David, some of this is new to me, but the main thing that's going on here isn't. Maybe I can help you with this."

David turned his face to meet his father's eyes, and his father spoke. "First off, if I'd have known that you had these feelings for Kurt, I'd have never asked him to stay here with you last week. That must have been torture for you, David."

"Dad, that was actually okay. I really enjoyed spending that time with Kurt,"

"Well, regardless, it wouldn't have been the greatest idea had I known."

Paul continued. "Here's what's happening, David. Kurt broke your heart, not through malice or deceit, but it still happened. Everybody goes through this when they're around your age, it's almost a rite of passage. I did when I was in tenth grade; okay, it was over a girl, but I'm sure the feelings are the same."

David's eyes became clearer, interested.

"Her name was Jamie. Sure, there were girls that I thought were prettier than she was, but she was the first girl to show me any kind of attention, and it was great. And then I got all of these warm ideas and thoughts about her, and, yes, feelings. She didn't feel the same way, she was just being a good friend."

"So, what happened?" David asked.

"We went out with a group of friends a several times. After a while, I finally asked her out, but she said she just wanted to be friends. It hurt. It hurt a lot, David. The thing is, it was temporary."

"Did you stay friends, Dad?" David asked, appearing almost hopeful.

"Yes we did. We were friends all through the rest of high school. Really good friends. We lost touch after that, but that kinda stuff happens, I guess."

"I don't wanna mess up my friendship with Kurt, Dad, and I feel like I'm messing it up. I mean, we'll have days where we're great. We talk like we're best friends and laugh; and then I start feeling alone and I get resentful feelings when Kurt's done nothing wrong really."

"I think you're going to be okay, David. Kurt obviously values your friendship. I mean, he invited us over for dinner on Saturday."

David's face returned a small, if unsure, smile; Paul smiled back as he pulled David into an embrace.

"Dad, you're amazing," David said.

"David, this was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. Are you a little better now?"

David and Paul unwrapped their embrace. "Dad, I don't know if I'm exactly okay right now, but I know that I'm _going_ to be okay."

Paul stood, looking down at David, his hand lingering on David's shoulder, thinking that this talk _was_ truly easier than he'd have imagined it would be. He was relieved, and he felt closer to his son than he had a mere fifteen minutes earlier.

 

**Wednesday March 21**

"Why don't you come over this Saturday?" Kurt asked Blaine. "The more, the merrier."

"I don't know," Blaine replied slowly. "Last Saturday was just kinda strange."

"But, we'll just be hanging out at my place, and David will be there."

There were a few moments of silence between the two of them as they waited for the bell to signal the end of their free study period. "I think I'll pass, Kurt, Yeah, I'll be cool with hanging with you and Karofsky and anyone else sometime soon, sure; but I'm just not feeling it right now."

"Well, just remember that you're invited should you change your mind, Blaine," Kurt reminded.

 

**Saturday March 24**

David sat in the passenger's seat of his dad's car as Paul drove the short fifteen minute drive to the Hummel-Hudson house.

"So, have I ever met Kurt's stepbrother?" Paul asked David.

"Finn Hudson?" David replied. "Probably not, but he was the QB for the Titans, so you've seen him play. He's a nice guy, and I'm kinda looking forward to seeing him again. Kurt's dad kinda scares me, though."

Paul smirked. "Burt? He seems like a nice guy."

David shook his head. "I don't doubt he's a nice guy and an awesome dad to Kurt. He always looks so intense, Dad. Y'know he chased me down in the hall at McKinley after he saw me mocking Kurt one day; forced me up against the wall in the hallway. Scared the crap outta me."

"I'd do the same if someone was threatening you, David."

David nodded.

The car approached Kurt's house and pulled into the driveway. It was nearly dark outside, and there were few lights on within the house. Paul and David climbed out of the car, approached the front door, and rang the bell.

A moment later, the door opened, a light turned on, and the silhouette of Burt, ubiquitous baseball cap on his head, was welcoming them into the house. "Good evening, gentlemen. Come in, please."

"Hi Burt," Paul greeted.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," David sounded quiet, somewhat nervous.

The two came into the house and Burt took their jackets, leaving them on a coat rack in the hallway. The house was quiet. David could smell food, but couldn't see much because, although he looked around, everything seemed dark. Burt moved a few steps away from the entryway toward a lighted area. "C'mon this way guys." Burt waved David and Paul in his direction.

They were standing at the threshold to the kitchen. It was well lit, but Dave was surprised to see that the kitchen was very neat and showed no signs of having been used to prepare a meal; neither was the dining room table set.

"Hey Burt," Paul spoke, "Could you show me to the bathroom?"

"Sure thing, Paul; follow me." Burt turned his gaze momentarily to David. "Just wait here. I'll be back in a second."

With that, Burt led Paul back into the darkness of the rest of the house leaving David just inside the dimly-lighted kitchen. Burt returned after a moment, walked into the kitchen, and stood next to David silently for a moment. The two were looking at each other's faces, David was trying to read Burt's expression. He could not, and, after some seconds, David had to look away: Burt's intense green eyes were intimidating to him.

"Kurt and Finn are in the basement. You can join them down there until we get the table set and dinner ready." Burt's voice wasn't particularly unfriendly, but his stoic expression and penetrating, almost accusing, eyes were not exactly making David feel welcome. As the two walked over to the door which led to the basement, David couldn't help wishing his dad was there.

The door to the basement was in half-light. When Burt opened it for David, the stairs were dark, but light was coming from the lower level. David looked at Burt whose eyes were catching the light, making them appear all-the-more intense. If David was now quite apprehensive, he was trying to not show it.

"After you, Dave," Burt said calmly, gently placing his hand on David's shoulder, directing him down the basement steps.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate word-count: 8,000

**Chapter 26**

 

**David's Last Chapter at Thurston**

**Sunday January 29**

"Dad, Mom, I need to talk to both of you."

Sunday evenings were quiet in the Karofsky household. After dinner, David's parents usually retired to the family room and settled in for a comfortable evening. Paul usually had a glass of wine while filling in the Sunday crossword puzzle, and Lorraine, also with a glass of wine, would catch up on reading the periodicals to which she subscribed or peruse that week's crop of print catalogs which arrived in the mail. The television usually didn't get turned on until seven o'clock (unless there was an important football game which Paul and David just couldn't miss, but there was no such game on this particular Sunday), so, after Paul, Lorraine, and David finished clearing the table, Paul and Lorraine were, as usual, in their Sunday evening positions. This allowed David about ninety minutes of his parents' undivided attention on an otherwise typical winter evening.

David thought about what he'd say. He'd thought about it enormously. He'd rehearsed it, short of writing it down and scripting himself. He practiced making his voice approachable and respectful even if his words and delivery had to be deliberate and unapologetic.

Paul looked up from his crossword puzzle, as if slightly annoyed by the intrusion; Lorraine focused her attention to David in a polite manner normally reserved for country-club luncheons, fundraisers, and charity events. David was breathing heavily. He was nervous and afraid of not having any idea of the outcome of the impending talk; but he would face this with any courage he could summon. If only he could have one-third of Kurt Hummel's strength, David thought as he felt his parents' eyes trained upon him.

"I know I had a bad couple of years, and I had a couple of rough patches recently; but I think I've focused myself and fixed what I'm doing, and I think that I'm getting along pretty well right now. Dad, Mom, you two have stuck by me through everything. You didn't defend everything I did. You disciplined me when my behavior called for that, and you helped me to be a better person through it. I feel closer to the both of you now than I have for, like, the past four or five years."

Lorraine smiled at David. It appeared rehearsed and somewhat artificial, but she was at least trying to have a proper reaction. Paul watched David, but he had a look on his face that seemed to say, _okay, get to the point so I can get back to what I was doing_.

"The problems I had at McKinley last year? They were because I was having trouble being honest with myself; I was having trouble accepting myself for who I am; I was trying to be something that I wasn't."

Paul's expression became more impatient. Lorraine's smile shifted to an expression of concern.

"Mom, Dad, I'm gay."

David searched his parents' faces for a reaction. There was no sound or change of expression. Time seemed to stand still. Finally, Paul exhaled loudly and set his crossword puzzle and pen down on an end table. He cast his gaze to the floor and lifted his hand up to his head, middle finger and thumb on opposite temples. Lorraine's expression was quiet shock followed by a nervous smile.

"David, don't you think you're taking this just a little too far?" Lorraine said. "I understand your being friends with that Hummel boy and the cheerleader you took to prom means you're open-minded and accepting of such people; and I understand that your being friends with them means that you sympathize with them; and I understand that it's a good thing to be open and accepting; and I know how all of that has affected your relationship with your grandfather and your uncle; but all of that doesn't mean that you're gay, David."

Paul continued to hold his head, remaining silent, an expression of deep concern and thought creasing his face.

"Um, Mom, that's not it. That's not it at all. You're making this sound like it's as easy as picking out an article of clothing or something."

"I understand that it's in the news and the media and its trendy right now, but, really, David, that doesn't mean that the lifestyle is an appropriate choice for everyone," Lorraine clarified.

David almost laughed at the way his mother had reduced his struggle to a bid for popularity. "Okay... uh... yeah, Mom. That kinda stuff may have been a reason why I was having problems before. I was too afraid of how people would feel about me if they knew. I was afraid of what you and Dad might think."

"David," Lorraine spoke, voice increasing in loudness. "Don't you think I'd know my own son? Don't you think I'd be able to tell something like that after raising you for eighteen years?"

"Lorraine," Paul interjected, loud and strong-voiced. "Please. This could not have been easy for David to tell us. Just leave it at that for now."

David stood silent for some minutes, watching his parents. Paul's hand was still holding his head by the temples; Lorraine stared into the floor, appearing stunned. Neither reaction was anything David expected. Before leaving the room for his bedroom, he spoke. "I hope that you want to talk with me about this a little more. After you think about it. I'll be in my bedroom." David, as quietly as he could, turned and exited the family room and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He sat for some minutes, exhausted, wishing he had someone to talk to.

Eventually, his father came to his bedroom door which he normally kept closed but he intentionally left open this night, hoping one or both of his parents would want to talk to him.

"Hey, Dad," David spoke quietly and cautiously hopeful, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"David, this is going to be difficult for you," Paul began, standing and pacing occasionally, rarely glancing in David's direction and avoiding eye-contact with David. "It will be difficult for me and your mother as well. I love you, David. There's a lot of hate out there. There are people who are going to hate you for who you are, without even knowing anything about you, and if I could spare you that, I would. If I can help you with what you're going through here, I will. I know the person you are, truly, not the kid who kept having disciplinary problems in school for the past few years, but the polite, happy son you were before that and smart, open individual I've watched you become in the last few months. Your mom, though, is having trouble with this."

Paul seemed to have exhausted what he planned to say though he continued to pace the floor of David's room for some minutes before leaving quietly, slowly, without further words.

David was left confused by his father's visit. As dutiful as the intent of his father's words were, he couldn't help but feel that the whole one-sided exchange felt incredibly impersonal. David was waiting for his father to hug him. Or hold his hand in a show of emotional support. Or look at him at the very least. None of these things happened.

David didn't hear from either of his parents for the remainder of the night. The longer the night dragged, the more intense the feeling of being alone became. He'd feel his eyes fill with tears and his throat swell with the feeling that he'd begin to cry at any moment, but few tears were shed.

**Wednesday February 1**

In the three days that passed since David came out to his parents, the feeling at his house was unlike any way his family had ever operated in the past. Three people rose from bed at predetermined times, meals were made and consumed either alone or in groups, pleasantries were exchanged, but it was as if the people who inhabited this house each belonged to separate worlds which they inhabited by themselves, sharing the same space with the others for a few common moments in time.

The strange, ghostly dance around each other's presence ended one evening at dinner. Out of nowhere and unprovoked, Lorraine began speaking. "David, we think you're rebelling." Paul looked up from his dinner, appearing somewhat offended that he, implied by the use of the pronoun 'we', was somehow involved in this failed logic.

"Teenagers rebel," Lorraine continued. "You rebelled last year with difficult behavior and letting your grades slip, and now you're rebelling by calling yourself 'gay' because that's a safer, easier, more acceptable form of rebellion, David."

David tried to prevent himself from laughing cynically at his mother's ridiculously naïve theory, like being gay is easy or a generally-accepted form of anything. David instead focused on the plate in front of him.

"What do your friends in school think about this?" his mother asked.

David quietly replied, addressing the plate of food before him more than either of his parents. "I haven't told anyone but you and Dad. I was going to see how that went, then maybe tell some of my close friends." The revelation shot holes in Lorraine's 'gay-as-a-popularity-enhancement' theory of a few nights ago.

"Well, all rebellious phases pass," Lorraine began again, sounding less energetic, like she was a slightly-deflated inflatable holiday lawn ornament. "That's why they're called 'phases'."

"Lorraine, please," Paul boomed from across the table. "This can't be easy for David, and what you're saying sounds almost like you're mocking his situation."

Though David hadn't finished his dinner, he stood up from the table. He couldn't listen to his mother any longer, and hearing his parents fight always caused him pain. "I'm going out. I won't be out late, but I can't listen to this."

David grabbed a coat and walked out to his truck. Although it was bitterly cold, there was no snow on the roads; there was, in fact, very little snow at all. The cold landscape and frozen-solid earth were just that: cold. David debated going to Scandals, but his last visit weighed upon his memory darkly so he decided against it. He debated going to the Lima Bean, but the last thing he wanted to do was encourage what was already likely to be a sleepless night. He really wasn't a mall person unless he had a reason to go. David drove familiar streets for a while, driving in large circles around the neighborhood. He eventually pulled his truck into a convenience store parking lot, debating whether to go inside or not. He really wasn't hungry, but he felt strange sitting outside in his truck. There was enough activity there, though, that he didn't appear obvious or out-of-place. He fumbled with the contacts list on his phone. He didn't feel that he could talk to anyone. Even though he'd planned efforts to mend his friendships with Gretchen, Sean, and their friends, he didn't feel he could come to them without telling them exactly why he couldn't be at home right then. He scrolled past Kurt's name, then backed up, then stopped.

This wasn't the first time Kurt had crossed David's mind in the last several weeks. Kurt would understand something about this. Kurt understood a great deal about him, David thought. On some level, David trusted Kurt. He wanted to call Kurt. His thumb hovered over the call button. He couldn't. Not in his current state. Kurt deserved better than that. Kurt was proud. David was, well, just finding his way and grasping at things. But Kurt tried to help David. And he certainly seemed friendly the time they bumped into each other at Scandals. David appreciated that, no, it was more than that. It was far more than that. He wanted to be close to Kurt. If David feared being disowned by his friends and family, he felt certain that he's always have a place to find understanding in Kurt. He'd almost called Kurt before, and he was close to calling him now, but he thought it better to wait until he was more confident. Valentine's Day was two weeks away. He'd think of some way of showing Kurt what his presence in David's life meant to him.

David slid his phone back into his pocket, warmed and suddenly energized. He had no idea what he'd do or how he'd go about doing it, but he'd somehow find a way of telling Kurt the way he felt.

David returned to the road and, eventually home. As he entered his house, he saw his dad sitting in front of the television with his nightly crossword puzzle. The television was off: silent and dark. His mother, it appeared, was across the house in her bedroom as a light was on in that room. David walked quietly up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat for a while, still and silent, still feeling the hopeful energy, the prospect of planning a Valentine's Day surprise for Kurt. After a few minutes, David heard a knock on his bedroom door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and his father stepped inside, taking a seat on the bed beside David. The two sat quietly for some time.

"I know this is difficult for you, David," Paul spoke quietly.

"Yes it is, Dad, but I'm okay."

"David, you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, and I love you too, Dad."

The two continued to sit beside each other for a few minutes. They were physically inches apart, but it felt like miles to David. He wanted anything, any physical sign to reinforce his father's verbal statement of love: an embrace, a held hand, anything: if Paul would have simply leaned against David, that would have been enough. There was none. Just words spoken in a hushed tone as if the love between a father and his son took on some different coloration once that son admitted to being gay.

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

Paul didn't speak, but nodded assent.

"Before I told you and Mom the other night, did you know?"

Paul shook his head. "David, it was nothing I ever expected to hear from you."

The two sat for some minutes in silence. David was still but ached for some physical sign of acceptance from his dad.

 

**Thursday February 2**

"Hey, Sean."

"Morning, Dave." Sean was a little surprised by Dave's pleasant greeting. Dave's tone of voice and expression reminded him of the Dave he knew and hung out with a few months before as opposed to the anxiety-haunted, short-tempered, secretive person which David had been more recently.

It was first period, AP Calculus class, but it was early, minutes before the late bell would ring. David crouched down next to Sean's desk, speaking to him face-to-face.

"Listen, Sean. I know I was a jerk to you and some of your friends a while back. I'm sorry about that. I had some stuff going on in my life that was really getting to me." Dave paused. Sean gave Dave a concerned expression. It appeared sincere. Dave continued. "I know it's not a good excuse for treating my friends badly, but it's the truth."

"Dave, we were all worried about you," Sean replied. "We thought something might be wrong, and we all wanted to help you if we could."

Dave was quick to respond. "I know, I know. I just wasn't comfortable talking to anyone. I'm still not, really, but I was way too much of a ass to you people." Dave paused, seemingly struggling to get something out of his mouth. "I... hope... you can still think of me as a friend."

Sean smiled, humbly and relieved. "Dave, man, yeah. You know we all love you. If you feel you need to work something out, that's okay, we're cool with that. We'll keep our distance if that's what you want. By the same token, we'd want to help you if we can, if you'd let us."

Dave smiled back at Sean: a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Sean." Dave nodded, punctuating his words.

The break in periods before lunch found Gretchen stopping at her locker to put away her books from earlier in the day. As she pulled her locker door open, she found a folded piece of notebook paper jammed between the vents. Though nothing was written on the outside of the folds to indicate who left the note, she could see some of the handwriting through the thinness of the paper: it was unmistakable to her. She took the note and walked to the vacant art room which she often used during free study periods to work on art projects. She unfolded the note and read it.

_Dear Gretchen,_

_Nothing I can say or write here excuses my behavior of the past couple of months. Just know that I'm aware that I pushed a lot of my friends away. I feel terrible for that. I was dealing with something on a personal level that was messing up the way I felt about myself and people around me. I'm still dealing with it, really, but I think I've turned a corner. I know all of you tried to get me to talk, but it wasn't something I was ready to talk about then. I'm still not ready to talk about it, but I'm a lot closer than I was._

_I've apologized to Sean and Howie. I'm writing to you now to say that I'm sorry for my behavior toward you as well. If you're angry with me, I understand. Like I said, there's really no excuse for the way I've acted, but if you'll accept my apology, I'll look forward to picking up where we left off several weeks ago. That's a lot for me to ask, and I understand that._

_I consider you my friend. I hope you can still see me as yours.  
_ _Dave_

The note indeed struck a chord with Gretchen. She missed having Dave in her life, and she was accepting of his apology. The two, though really didn't speak, but their acknowledgement of each other in the halls somehow communicated: a wink from Gretchen, a crooked smile from Dave, a friendly nod from either to either. The communication was strange but understood and comforting to both.

Despite Dave's efforts to rebuild bridges with his friends, he wasn't seen at lunch: Dave spent his lunch periods in the library studying and working on assignments; but his friends saw him throughout the day in the halls. The random passing meetings were friendly but brief. They consisted of brief verbal greetings and occasional handshakes (though the handshakes were usually reserved for Johnno and Randy as the sports-guys tended to be more physical in their methods of recognition).

A handful of meetings at Heritage Park in late January and early February repaired his frayed relationship with several of the other boys from the football team: when they weren't acting like locker-room ape-men, he found that playing pickup games with them was actually therapeutic for him. Once again, he wasn't associating with any of them on a personal or frequent basis, but Nick and the rest of the guys religiously exchanged friendly 'hellos' and 'what's ups' and 'heys' with Dave as they passed in the school corridors. It helped that Dave was a player who was always very enthusiastic about playing the informal games and that he had, in the proper surroundings, a disarming friendliness and unshakable sense of fairness for such an intensely physical player.

Dave had returned to his practice of using the weight room during his morning free-study period as he did often during football season. Occasionally, Johnno or Randy or both would meet him. More often, though, he was there by himself or some other random person or people which he didn't know well; and, as earlier in the school year, it wasn't uncommon for Nick or any of the other guys from the team to use the weight room during this time.

Dave's situation at home was not as easy, but thoughts which occupied his mind kept his outlook positive. He thought of Kurt increasingly, and this gave him some element of inner strength. Remembering the way Kurt handled the abuse which he was greeted with daily at McKinley gave David the strength to endure his mother's words should he need to; it also gave David the hope that, someday, David might again know the closeness he once felt to his father.

Lorraine talked, almost to a tiresome degree. This was not like her at all. The words she spoke were sometimes not relevant to anything, almost spoken as if the silence was a horrid void which needed to be filled. When Lorraine addressed David, she'd sometimes talk about school work or school events in a bid to make things seem normal. At least she'd stopped talking about Gretchen, David mused.

David's father was primarily quiet. When he talked, it was about work or the weather or the Super Bowl game which would occur in a few days' time. David was looking forward to the event also: despite that NFL championship games were often not the best games of the season, watching the Super Bowl game was something he shared with his father yearly.

 

**Monday, February 6**

Today was a good day.

David was concerned about how his dad was feeling about him since their talk last week, but last night during the Super Bowl game, everything felt just exactly like it should have, like it always did. The Madonna halftime show interested neither David nor his father; but David did wonder if Kurt was watching it at the same time he was.

Speaking of Kurt, a package arrived for David. It was a gorilla costume which he'd purchased from an auction site.

 

**Wednesday February 15**

David was startled by his alarm clock. He was not awakened by it. David wasn't sure if he'd slept at all for the entire night. Thoughts of the previous evening's disaster replayed in his head every moment he lay awake in bed: the stunned expression on Kurt's face when David removed his mask; the blunt honesty with which Kurt recounted their history; the sickening twist he felt in his gut when he realized that Kurt wouldn't be his; the childish, bitter way he felt when he stood up and tried to leave; finally, Nick's smug, leering grin which David felt himself running from as he exited the restaurant. David laid his feelings bare before Kurt only to be met with indifference. Despite the recent nominal friendship between David and Nick, David was terrified by Nick's expression upon seeing David with Kurt.

He wasn't sure he could drive to school given the nervous, sleep-deprived state in which he found himself. Breakfast helped calm his stomach. Coffee wasn't the best idea, but it might keep him aware. He was relieved that he didn't have any tests; he was in no mental or physical condition to perform.

Sean saw Dave enter the first period classroom. Dave was pale, and his mind appeared to be miles away.

"Hey, Dave," Sean gave his customary greeting, intentionally trying to make his voice soft and welcoming.

Dave turned and looked at Sean. "Morning, Sean." Dave sounded normal; but when Sean looked at Dave, when his eyes met Dave's, it made him shudder: somehow it looked like the Dave he knew had been erased.

The remainder of Dave's day seemed to exist in a waking sleep-state during class periods and abject paranoia as he walked through the halls. He'd pass Nick, eyes narrow and defensive, until Nick would give a friendly "Hey, Karofsky," at which point Dave felt safe to lower his facial defenses and greet Nick as usual. Maybe, Dave thought, this had passed. Maybe Nick believed his story. Maybe Nick was alright with Dave even if he was gay. The questions alone were maddening.

The anxiety didn't end when David returned home from school, but he'd endured the day without incident, and that gave David some internal resilience. He walked through the front door and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He dropped his bags on the floor, unzipped his backpack, and searched inside for his Calculus textbook. The homework busied his mind enough that the sick feeling that followed him throughout the day faded, even if it was merely a temporary fix.

He had left his bedroom door open, and turned when he heard a knock on his door jamb. He saw his mother standing in the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," David said, bracing himself. His mom hadn't told him anything he even remotely wanted to hear in a little over two weeks. Today's conversation would be no exception.

"I've looked into some sources for conversion and reparative therapies," Lorraine began. "Do you know what those terms mean? Being that you're eighteen, you'd need to agree to these things yourself."

David was silent for a moment, but he didn't shrink away from the suggestion. He defied it with a polite but firm reaction. "I know what you're talking about. You think I'm a freak."

"David, I don't think you're a freak. You have a problem, and there's help out there."

"I'm normal. This is me."

"You don't want to get help?" Lorraine was trying to be calm, but this was clearly a mask. She was trembling, and David could see this.

"Why can't you just love me for who I am?" David's voice was calm and strong.

These words were too much for Lorraine to endure. She stood up, trying to appear as controlled as possible, made her way to the doorway, and exited, not turning to show her face. She was beginning to cry, and by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was sobbing quietly to herself.

 

**Thursday February 16**

David had fallen asleep early; accordingly, his state of mind benefitted from a solid night's sleep, his concerns of the previous day calmed considerably.

It was between second and third period when Sean approached Dave in the hallway. Dave was retrieving books from his locker after using the weight room.

"Dave, man, I gotta talk to you," Sean sounded concerned.

Dave smiled, "Hey, Sean, what's up?"

"What's up? I dunno. But something's up." Sean's words were puzzling.

"Dude, you look spooked. What are you talking about?"

"People have been asking me questions about you all day."

Dave's face became serious. "Like what kinda questions?"

"Like how well do I know you and reasons why you left McKinley and if I've met any of your friends from McKinley: normally, I wouldn't give a shit, but it's, like, happened five or six times already today."

"Okay," Dave asked quietly, "who's asking these questions?"

Sean thought for a moment. "There were a couple of guys this morning, that Carl guy from the football team and that crony of his who tries to look all gangsta. Second period, there was one of those chicks that dates one of the football players. Just, like, a minute ago, some dude I don't think I've ever seen before."

David's face appeared uncertain. He shook his head. "Whatever." The word was dismissive, but he sounded concerned. "If you hear anything else, let me know, okay?"

Sean nodded his head. "Sure thing, Dave."

The rest of the school day passed strangely for Dave, the exchange with Sean having destroyed Dave's powers of concentration. At the end of the day, he returned home and walked up to his bedroom. He pulled out his cell phone and found Kurt's number. Despite his bitter reaction to Kurt two days ago, he was hoping that Kurt would talk to him. He received no answer.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening passed uneventfully. David was glad that he had a fairly heavy amount of homework as it gave his mind something to do besides dwell on the paranoia which was growing in his mind.

 

**Friday February 17**

Another patchy night of sleep wasn't helpful to Dave's mental state. Dave found himself looking over his shoulder regularly as he walked through the halls of Thurston. He felt that deviating from his regular routine might cause suspicion, so he used the weight room during second period as usual. There were two other boys using the weight room at the time. He knew neither one of them. There was no reason to be alarmed, he thought.

Everywhere David went, he thought he could feel eyes watching him: the tension in his neck was maddening, his vision blurred occasionally, but the day was largely uneventful. During his final stop at his locker, however, while Dave was gathering the items he'd take home with him, he heard Gretchen's voice behind him. He turned around to see a nearly frantic expression on her face.

"Dave, watch yourself."

Dave tried be cool. "Watch myself... why?"

"There's some kinda story going around about you and the reason why you left McKinley and some guy you were hanging out with at Breadstix on Valentine's Day."

"Okay," Dave's face paled, but he kept his composure, "Yeah, I ran into an old McKinley friend at Breadstix the other night: so what?"

"Dave, just watch yourself, okay?" Gretchen warned, nearly pleading.

Dave robotically nodded and turned away from Gretchen, pulled himself together, and drove himself home. Once inside his house, he climbed the stairs and collapsed onto his bed. He felt safe from harm: he felt he could adequately deal with his mother's hurtful words, and he wouldn't need to face the pressures of school for two days.

David tried calling Kurt once again. Then again later. No answer either time.

 

**Saturday February 18**

Dave frantically searched for a number among his contacts. Another call to Kurt resulted in no answer, but he needed to talk to someone. Even with the pressures of school absent, the tension between his parents was tangible. It was only minutes after five o'clock, and the dimming light outside was darkening Dave's mental state also.

He found the contact and called.

"Yo, K'rofsky!" a familiar voice answered.

"Hey, Zee," Dave tried to hide his anxiety, sounding enthusiastic.

"What's goin' on?"

"I was hoping to maybe hang out with you tonight or something." Dave answered.

"Sure, my man. Some of my boys will be coming here later, around eight, you are more than welcome to join us."

"Ah, Zee, I was really hoping to just hang with you for a while. I... I... have some stuff going on, I really need to talk to someone." Dave's desperation was beginning to show.

"Holy crap, K'rofsky, you sound serious. I'm your bro, man. I'm here for you. Get your wide white ass over here as soon as you can."

Dave sighed relief. "Geeze. Thanks, Zee, I'll be over there in ten or fifteen."

The evening was chilly, but far warmer than it had been earlier in the week; it was not uncomfortable outdoors if properly dressed for the temperature, and the evening was otherwise pleasant. Dave arrived at Azimio's house a short time after he'd ended the call. Azimio was actually waiting outside for Dave's arrival.

Dave parked his truck and climbed out. He put his head down, hands in pockets, and approached Azimio nervously. Azimio reached his arms out and hugged Dave roughly.

"Good to see you, Zee."

"Same, K'rofsky. You alright?"

"No, man, I'm messed-up." Dave faced downward, raising his eyes to meet Azimio's, breathing heavily. "I need to talk to someone, man. You're my best friend."

"Damn straight, I am," Azimio confirmed. "What's bothering you? You get some hoe pregnant?"

Dave smiled, letting out the beginning of a laugh at the suggestion. "No, Zee, nothing like that."

"You wanna come inside?" Azimio offered.

Dave continued to breathe the cool air. "No, Zee, if it's cool with you, I just wanna hang out here for a while."

"Sure, bro."

The two stood in silence, leaning against David's pickup truck, for some minutes. Finally, Azimio spoke.

"Dave, man, you okay wit' this?"

"I need to talk to someone, Zee. I don't think you ever called me Dave before."

"Something's really got you, man. Take your time. You wanna talk, that's cool. You just wanna stand, that's cool too."

Dave shook his head. "I gotta talk." Dave paused for a long moment. "Okay, um... " Dave began, but stalled. He nodded and raised and gestured with his hands, appearing like he was about to begin talking but stopped before any words came out. More than once. Several times.

Azimio began to shake his head in confusion, but he wasn't impatient with Dave. "K'rofsky, man, calm down. I'm your bro."

Dave nodded nervously again, mouth opened as if ready to speak, then he said, almost choking on his breath, "I'm gay."

Azimio's expression hardened.

"I'm gay, Zee."

Azimio twisted his expression. "Don't even joke about that shit, K'rofsky. That shit ain't funny, okay?"

"I'm not jokin', and I need to have someone get this okay about me, and you're my best friend." Dave looked at Azimio with pleading eyes.

Azimio's face dropped to a dumbfounded expression, eventually shaking his head. "No, no, no. This ain't cool, man. What da fuck you tellin' me this shit for?"

Dave's face wanted to twist in pain, but he did his best to mask it in anger. "I thought you were my friend. I trusted you as my best friend, Zee."

"Not wit' dat shit" Azimio backed away from Dave, shaking his head, walking toward his house. "Don't talk to me 'bout dat shit, don't bother talkin' to me at all."

Dave, trying to make himself appear strong, like he could handle this, like this wasn't ripping him apart on the inside, straightened his shoulders, hardened his expression, turned his back, and climbed into his truck, starting back onto the road.

He drove mechanically, like a piece of metal for a few miles, then pulled into the parking lot of an ice cream parlor which was closed for the winter. He parked his truck and sat for a few minutes. Like a wave, the agony of Azimio's rejection overtook him. He felt his face pull into the most pained grimace he'd ever known. Tears would not stop coming from his eyes. He needed someone, just one person, anyone, to not reject him. He didn't feel that he'd stop crying, but at least his tears slowed. He pulled out his phone and called Kurt's number. No answer. He considered leaving a message, but he didn't. He didn't even know what he'd say, and halfway through saying anything, he'd probably break down into unintelligible sobbing.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in his truck, but his tears had dried. If he couldn't find someone to understand or even listen to him now, maybe he'd just find someone, anyone, with which he could find some level of contact. It didn't matter anymore what kind of contact he had. They didn't even have to really care. Maybe if they just pretended like they cared for a few minutes, that would be enough.

 

* * *

 

Monster. He's a fucking monster. A hundred pounds overweight and fucked-up eyebrows. Even the junior-town-slut told him to go back in the closet. And once that happened, the best looking guy in the place could have thrown himself at Dave, and Dave would have hurt too much to care. No friends tonight, just the cold, hard reality: should have stayed in that fucking closet.

Dave pulled his truck out of the Scandals parking lot clearly seeing the road before him. The tears were gone. He didn't even want to talk to Kurt any longer. Realization. Kurt was strong. Dave was nothing. Dave was less than nothing. Nowhere to go but home. Home to the dad that says nice things but apparently means none of them and the mom who's ready to send him away to have him deprogrammed like Alex the droog. Dave briefly mused how that might work. Would he vomit every time he saw a cock?

Somewhere in the night, between the pounding in his head and the numbness in his chest, sleep mercifully found Dave

 

**Sunday February 19**

Dave woke later than usual, even for a weekend day. He was usually out of bed by eight o'clock; he'd slept past ten.

His face was affected by the week. It was sadness personified. There was nothing else. No facade necessary at home. His face was marked as the wreckage of a person internally hurt to their limit.

He wondered how, two weeks ago, he and his dad watched the Super Bowl game together, and it felt almost like they never had that talk in late January. He felt like his dad's son again. Two weeks ago, and the memory was distant, like another life altogether.

David made two attempts to call Kurt: one in the late morning; the other in the late afternoon. Neither yielded an answer.

Dinner time was an exercise in torture. Silence from his father; inane chattering from his mother.

"Marianne's son is getting married. Her older son is already married with two kids." Indifference from David and Paul.

"I guess it's a good thing to have gay friends and be a tolerant person." Lorraine's brain shifted gears with an incredible, almost neurotic fluidity.

Unprovoked as she often was, Lorraine, in a fit of frustration, barked at David. "This is _not_ the way your father and I raised you. I _know_ how we raised you. How could you do this to us?"

"How could you have such a ridiculous double-standard where your own son is concerned?" David shot back at her in a calm, unwavering tone, eyes never breaking from the plate before him: the most lively he'd been all day.

 

**Monday February 20**

David buried all of the weekend's negativity deep within himself. Even if things were strange at school, they couldn't touch the depths he'd reached over the weekend. He was actually looking forward to Monday morning.

The entire day was far easier than David could have imagined. Sean pleasant and friendly in the morning, Gretchen watchful in the hallways, Nick typically friendly as he'd been lately, second period in the weight room, and no vague warnings or rumors: this had possibly passed.

Another call. Still no answer from Kurt.

Dinner was quiet and completely unremarkable. David's mom, calm and surprisingly untalkative.

Maybe this had passed.

Still no answer from Kurt.

 

**Tuesday February 21**

Sean had just left Calculus and was standing next to Gretchen's locker while she pulled out a notebook and a large-format sketchpad, four-times the size of the one she always had with her.

Howie approached the two of them. "Hey, you guys seen Dave yet today?"

Gretchen shook her head while Sean answered. "Yeah, just saw him last period. He seemed to be in a good mood today, like, a better mood than I'd seen him in for, like, a couple of weeks, I'd say."

"I just heard the whole story that's been going around about him," Howie said, sounding slightly frantic. "Like, apparently, there was this photo that was getting passed around of him when he went to McKinley. He was at the prom with a dude, like a date or something. The story goes that he was chased out of McKinley because of that; and Nick, from the football team, actually saw the two of them on a date on Valentine's Day. I mean, I don't know how much of it's true, but I saw the photo. It's not the clearest photo, but it sure looks like Dave. I hear that something's going down today."

The three of them looked at each other, extreme concern on all of their faces. Gretchen's eyes focused at the far end of the hallway. The two boys turned to look in that direction. They saw Dave's back at a distance as he turned the corner into the boys' locker room just as the late bell rang.

"Hey, Karofsky." Nick nodded in Dave's direction.

"T'sup, Nick." Dave greeted back with a smile.

Dave had never seen this many guys in this locker room at this time of day. He'd used the weight room during his second period free-study time many times, and the most guys he'd ever seen in the locker room at this time of day was, maybe, nine or ten; and that was during football season on game days when they'd basically hang out there all day. He was used to seeing, maybe, four or five at the most.

 

* * *

 

David was not entirely awake, but he was aware of a hand holding his own. He seemed to have been aware of that hand holding his for what, in his semi-conscious state, seemed to be his entire life even though only about ten minutes had passed since the hand grasped his. His vision clarified slowly; he shook the the chemical-induced sleep out of his head, and his eyes focused.

He was lying in a hospital bed. Seated in a chair next to the bed was his father, head down facing toward the floor, arm extended, hand firmly wrapped around his son's. David tried to speak, but he couldn't. He could _think_ the words, but they wouldn't come. His mouth could _form_ the words, but his throat was too tight for the words to actually arrive. David felt his face pull into a hard frown before he could gain control of his facial muscles and compose himself. He jerked his hand capturing his father's attention. Paul looked at David's face. David's face was pleading, sorry, apologetic. He mouthed the words and tried to voice them with every particle of air he could control, "Dad, I'm sorry."

Paul's face pulled in the same way in which David's had a moment before. His eyes were red with hours of tears. "David, there's no way I can say all of the thoughts going through my mind right now. I should have paid more attention to what you were going through. I should have been more supportive. I should have understood that what you were dealing with was big and meant something big. I trivialized your pain in so many ways. I forgot that you're really just a kid, _my_ kid; and you needed me to do something more than avoid helping you deal with your troubles, but that's exactly what I did: I tried to avoid the whole thing."

David was shedding quiet tears through Paul's words. The two sat in silence for some time.

It was Paul who finally spoke. "If you ever doubted that I love you, David, that's my fault, and I'm sorry. I know I said it to you before, the night that you told me and your mother, but I gave you almost no reason to believe me. Please believe me now?" It sounded more a plea than a statement. "I love you, David," it was barely intelligible through Paul's tears.

David closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about the pain he'd caused his father; and to see that pain surface on his father's face was an overload for David. When he was fairly certain that his father had calmed, David opened his eyes. Because the words which David was capable of forming were barely audible, he caught his father's attention visually and looked at him directly: "I love you too, Dad."

Paul nodded in response, tension visibly lifted from him, as if his guilt was cleansed by his son's nearly silent words.

"What about Mom?" David asked after a moment, once again speaking into his father's eyes, "Was Mom here?"

Paul's expression became grave. "David, your mother is having trouble with this. She says that it almost killed you, that it's like a disease." David's expression became blank, confused. "David, your mother loves you too," Paul continued. "The difference between your mother and me is that I know that this is the way you are and that's what's normal for you; but your mother believes that this is some abnormality that can be fixed or corrected or something. She's talked about getting you 'treated' for your 'problem'. David, that will happen over my dead body. It's gonna be hard for you, for both of us, but there's nothing wrong with the way you are."

Paul reached out to his son with both arms, embracing his son as well as he could given their awkward positions. David was crying. He was warmed by his father's intent but struggling with the emotional uncertainty in his mother's position.

Then Paul raised his hand, slid it behind David's head, and gently pulled David as close to himself as he could. "You're not going to lose me, David," Paul spoke just above a whisper as he cradled David's head gently against his chest, "I promise."

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 8,500

**Chapter 27**

 

**Saturday March 24, part 2**

"Karofsky in the house!"

The shout startled David as he came to rest at the landing at the bottom of the stairs. He turned to see a room full of familiar, smiling faces, but before he could register anything, he felt Burt patting his shoulder reassuringly as Chris Strando launched himself at David, wrapping him in a hug so rabid that it nearly tackled David and brought both of them tumbling to the floor. Burt instinctively braced David's shoulders firmly with both hands to prevent the two boys from crashing backward into him.

Before him, David could hear yells, whoops, and clapping, but he couldn't really see anything through his closed eyes and elated, quiet laughter.

Chris nearly shouted in David's ear, "Gawd, it's so fukin' good to see you, Karofsky!"

"Language, boys, language!" Burt leered with a smile at Chris over David's shoulder.

"Sorry, Kurt's dad," was Chris's apology. Burt chuckled and nodded, dropping his hands from David's shoulders.

Sean, all serious, critical eyes, inspected the image on his camera phone screen before nudging Kurt to share. "I got it." Kurt, smiling and interested, turned his head to see the screen: David's expression mixed surprise and confusion with a dazed smile: not the most flattering portrait, but genuine. "I'm gonna get pictures of Dave with everybody tonight."

Chris didn't seem to want to loosen his grip on David. "It looks like I got a lot of people I gotta say 'hello' to right about now," David spoke through chuckles, muffled by Chris's shoulder.

"I know, dude, I know," Chris acknowledged, still not letting David go.

After several more seconds, David raised his head to see more clearly the people gathered in the room. "Listen, Strando," David spoke, "you're cute and all, but can't we just be friends?"

Chris loosened his hold and laughed, playfully slapping David's head. "Yeah, you prick," Chirs said under his breath just loud enough for David to hear, not wanting to raise the ire of Burt. "Go talk to people, we'll catch up later. I just wanted to be your first." Chris winked at David as he backed away, patting David roughly on his shoulders. David looked downward and laughed before he craned his head up and looked around the room.

Chris returned to a gathering of a few of the McKinley jocks over on one side of the room who were in close proximity to some other McKinley people: Santana, Brittany, and Mercedes; Sam was nearby also, but he was occupied with a laptop set-up on a small table which was connected to a sizable set of speakers, a pair of headphones on his head. There was a large table of food set up toward the back of the room to which he saw Burt making his way; Paul and Carole were standing nearby, Paul's eyes met David's with a smile: he'd certainly been in on this. To the other side of the room, he saw Gretchen, Howie, Corey, and his other friends from Thurston. Kurt and Sean were standing nearby eyeing Sean's cell phone: _co-conspirators_ , David mused with a grin on his face. Closest in proximity were Finn and Rachel standing side-by-side. David slowly approached the couple with slight apprehension.

"Hudson," David spoke, hushed, shaking his head. "Man, I'm sorry for being such a total ass to you and your friends for so long."

Finn smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, but you're not now, so it's cool. Water under the bridge, right?"

David nodded and held out his right hand. Finn smiled wide and shook his head. David was momentarily confused with Finn's refusing his handshake until Finn jumped forward and hugged David.

"Ah, Hudson," David choked out through a laugh, "why weren't we better friends?"

"Who cares?" Finn said, "We are now, huh?"

Finn backed away and David nodded assent to Finn's statement, turning to face Rachel. He never knew her well and was somewhat nervous as he addressed her with his eyes, not sure what to say.

"I'm glad to be here, David," Rachel said immediately, a polite, professional smile on her face.

David looked down, shaking his head. "I was such a jerk to all of you people, and I'm sorry about all of that."

"Oh, be quiet," Rachel responded, reaching her hand to cover David's mouth, smiling wider, more naturally, almost coquettish. This wasn't anything like the proper, well-rehearsed Rachel David thought he knew: she was, for lack of a better word, _human_. She made her face more serious, but addressed him with her eyes, an empathetic expression. "You've been through a difficult time, and I have some understanding of that." David nodded, unspoken understanding. Rachel reached up and embraced David gently. David returned the embrace, also gently.

The two unlocked after a few moments and looked at each other for a short time before David spoke. "Uh, I was wondering. I'm doing this project for my history class. It's about the gay experience in a small midwestern US city. Do you think your dads might agree to be interviewed for my project?"

Rachel's smile became wide and elated. "I'll ask them, but I can say, probably almost definitely?"

David smiled in an equal degree to her response. "Okay, well, we'll exchange phone numbers before the end of the night, and you can get back to me whenever." David took in her happy countenance for a moment. "I'm really glad you're here too." David glanced at Finn who was still standing next to them. "I understand that you two are engaged. Congratulations." Finn and Rachel instinctively reached for each other. pulling each other close.

"Yeah, that's right," answered Finn as Rachel lifted her hand, showing David her ring, "and thank you Dave." Finn and Rachel both beamed big smiles at David.

David smiled and nodded in return. "I'd love to chat some more, and I'm sure I'll catch up with both of you later tonight; but, unfortunately, I think I have a bunch of other people that are going to be mad if I don't start talking to them as well."

A loud noise erupted from the speakers, Sam having apparently worked around whatever bug was delaying the music from the DJ setup. Everyone looked up in an expression of dismay and shock until Sam, an expression of equal surprise on his face, pulled back on a fader to bring the music down to a normal, listenable level. Smiles returned to everyone's faces as David approached the Thurston crowd.

"Keep it rockin'," Howie yelled in the direction of Sam, "Dave likes it to rock." Sam, nodded, a shy, almost paranoid, expression on his face: he didn't know this guy who was yelling at him at all.

Gretchen had a tough-girl smile on her face as David approached the group. David, knowing the expression well, affected a nervous half-grin.

"Y'know, I should be pissed-off at you," Gretchen said pointedly, "but I'm just too happy to see you to give you any kind of attitude."

David smiled as he took took her in visually: she wasn't dressed in anything special, but, _damn, if she couldn't nail any straight guy to the wall_ , he chuckled to himself. "Happy to see you too, Gretchen."

"You look great, David," She complimented, the toughness in her expression fading to an honest smile.

"You know how you look?" David said to Gretchen.

Gretchen looked up at David, shaking her head, all big eyes and flirty.

David looked around, affecting paranoia. "You look like, if I could be straight for anyone, it would be you."

Gretchen's affected expression collapsed into a giggle as she wrapped her arms around David and pulled him in, kissing his cheek. "Your logic and honestly are fucking brutal, Dave," she whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, and you're just brutal," David returned as they unlocked.

As she looked up at him with an affected expression of disappointment. "I'm not fucking brutal?" she mouthed to him with a breath of a whisper.

"Oh you totally are," David assured. "I just didn't wanna get reprimanded by Congressman Hummel."

Gretchen laughed loudly. "Always the diplomat."

"Hey, Howie, Justin, Spence, Scott, Corey, Angela... " David greeted and shook hands with all of the remainder of the Thurston crowd while they responded in the like. "I'm at a loss for how great it is to see all of you."

"Dude, you can multiply that three times as far as we're all concerned, Dave," Howie said with a nervous smile, a hint of seriousness in his words.

David knew the inference, and smiled over his instinctive serious expression. "Yeah, but we're not gonna go there tonight. I'm too happy, and I hope all of you are also."

The entire group of them smiled at David's words.

"So, when are we all gonna go bowling?" Corey reminded.

"Hey, have you or one of these guys get in touch with me, and we'll get it going," David replied.

David moved past the food table, noticing his father's absence. He looked at Carole and asked, "Um, are you Kurt's stepmom?"

"Yes," she answered, "I'm Finn's mom and Kurt's stepmom."

"Where'd my dad go?"

Carole grinned. "He and Burt went upstairs to have a beer, I think. Burt didn't want to be drinking in front of the kids. The teenager in him that he never grew out of would have wanted to share with them, but his responsibility as an adult would have been compromised."

David nodded and extended his hand, smiling. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hummel."

She smiled warmly, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you too, David."

David approached a politely smiling Mercedes and a bashfully smiling Sam. He looked at both of them shaking his head a little. "Thanks for coming to visit me when I was in the hospital." David had trouble smiling, suppressing an element of guilt. "I was a complete jerk to you people, and..."

"Oh, you shush, now," Mercedes interrupted with a smile full of attitude. "You're Kurt's friend so you've inherited us as friends whether you like it or not. You're stuck with us, so get used to it." Sam and David both laughed in unison.

"Well, me, I'm crashing here with the Hummels and Hudsons because the rest of my family is in Kentucky," Sam explained. "So, I got the job as the DJ, and Mercedes wouldn't miss a party for fear of missing first-hand gossip. And the food's good."

David shrugged and smiled. "That's fair."

"It's good to see you, just the same, Karofsky," Sam added.

"It's good to see the both of you," David nodded shaking hands with Sam. He offered his hand to Mercedes, but she refused, opting instead to give him a big hug.

David turned to find himself face-to-face with Santana: tight sweater, short skirt, high-heeled boots, dressed to slay, eyes level with David's, an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face.

"Santana," David muttered, sober face, shaking his head slightly.

"Dave," Santana shook her head, "what I did to you at McKinley was terrible."

"Santana, I can't hold that against you. I was a pretty awful person myself."

Santana shook her head. "If I hadn't have done that, you wouldn't have left McKinley," Sanatana paused. "And... if you... hadn't left McKinley, none of that other..."

David stopped her. "Santana, I can't think like that right now. I have so much damage to repair, that I really can't regret that one thing. Yeah, it's true: if I hadn't left McKinley, things would have been easier for me had I been outed; but the reason why I left McKinley was to _avoid_ being outed. It didn't work out that way, and I'm not gonna sugarcoat anything because it was the darkest thing I've had to live through; but I _did live_ through it. Truth told, the experience with you probably helped me a little."

"How?" Santana's face shot a look of surprise.

David exhaled loudly, still keeping his speech fairly quiet. "Okay, yeah, it was pretty rotten when you threatened me," David paused. "But every time someone saw that part of me, it got me closer to admitting it to myself, it became easier for me to accept; and when I finally got to that point, I didn't hate myself any longer." David's sympathetic expression lingered on Santana's face. "It couldn't have been easy for you, I mean, that Reggie Salazar campaign ad was all over the TV."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, that sucked, but I never got to as bad a place as you did, Dave."

"Well," Dave summoned a small smile, "I'm better now."

"And I got something good out of my end of it also," Santana smiled as Brittany approached the two as if on-cue. "Britt and I don't need to sneak around and hide anything any longer." Santana reached forward and wrapped her arms around David, and they held each other close for some time, feeling an unspoken bond between them, until they were interrupted by a belligerent voice.

"Back off, stretch, I'm his hag," Gretchen reprimanded the taller girl.

"Pipe-down, pipsqueak, I'm a lesbian," Santana shot back with equal attitude.

There was a palpable gravity as the two girls faced each other, sizing each other up. David was beginning to sense tension until both girls began laughing in unison.

"Um," David began, smiling nervously but relieved, "Santana, this is Gretchen, one of my friends from Thurston; Gretchen, meet Santana, a friend of mine from McKinley."

"Santana, cool name," Gretchen voiced with a smile as she nodded and reached her hand out to Santana.

Santana took her hand and shook it. "If I had to guess your name, 'Gretchen' would have been one of my first three guesses."

"Oh yeah?" Gretchen raised and eyebrow, still smiling, "What would have been the other two?"

"'Dominique' and 'Justine' would have been my first two guesses, in that order," Santana replied as the two girls giggled to each other.

David shook his head, a dazed grin on his face, and turned to Brittany. "Hi, Brittany."

Brittany reached out and hugged David for a moment and said to him while pulling away, "You're my newest unicorn friend."

David nodded, still smiling but blank, certain that the statement meant something to Brittany. "So, things are good with you and Santana then?"

"Yep, we're just awesome," Brittany answered, a proud smile on her face.

"I'm glad to hear that," David said, punctuating his statement with a nod as Santana walked over to introduce Gretchen to Brittany.

"Well, girls, I think I gotta eat something," David said to the three of them. "I'll catch up with you later; but I haven't eaten yet, and my stomach is yelling at me to feed it right now."

Gretchen shot a sarcastic expression to Santana and Brittany. "He's such a _man_." The three girls laughed in unison as David shook his head, smirking, and moving toward the food table.

Paul and Burt had returned to the basement and were standing in front of the food table. David approached his dad; both Paul and Burt were smiling at David as he approached. David looked downward, grinning widely and shaking his head.

"Did you guys eat yet?" David asked the two men.

"I've been eating all day, so Kurt cut me off," Burt snapped sarcastically.

_Okay, totally different delivery, but I know where Kurt gets it from_ , David mused to himself.

"Actually," Paul spoke, "I haven't eaten yet, and I was kinda waiting until you made your way over here, David."

Burt shifted, moving to another part of the room to join Carole, leaving Paul and David to consider the food by themselves.

David spoke quietly, just loud enough for his father to hear over the noise of the room. "You were in on this."

Paul smiled. David couldn't see Paul's smile as they were both facing the table, but he'd have sworn he could feel it. "Guilty as charged," Paul finally said.

David couldn't contain the huge smile that spread across his face, still looking downward. Paul turned to see David's face, and his own smile widened. "Dad, I can't put into words how incredible you are. Do I need to even ask who else was responsible?"

"Probably not, but does it really matter?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, Dad, it matters to me, but, then, I'm not gonna think about it too much right now because, right now, I'm just hungry."

There was a slow-cooker filled with hot dogs and sauerkraut as well as a crock pot filled with meatballs and tomato sauce with accompanying hot dog buns and sandwich rolls, a cold sandwich ring, assorted party munchies, chips, dip, brownies, and what appeared to be a homemade sheet cake.

"I'm gonna start with one of these hot dogs because the smell is driving me nuts," David said as he lifted the lid from the slow-cooker. "What are you having, Dad."

"Actually, that sounds like a good way to start," Paul agreed. "I'll follow that lead, David."

Paul and David had constructed their sandwiches and were about to eat when they were called from behind. "Hey, Dave and Mr. Karofsky?"

The two turned to see Sean standing before them, camera phone at the ready, snapping their photo. "Perfect: two deer in the headlights."

Paul laughed while David, smiling, spoke. "Hey, Sean. I didn't get a chance to talk to you yet tonight. What's going on?"

"Dave, I am taking pics of you with everyone tonight, and I'm going to email them to you tomorrow."

"Well, then, you need to get one of you and me," David reminded Sean.

"Okay, then," Sean said as he turned around and stood beside David, held his phone out at arm's length, elevated, and snapped. Sean pulled his arm back and turned the phone around to inspect the image, sharing it with David.

"Looks pretty good," David said, smiling down at the image.

"Ah, I always look like a dork in pictures," Sean opined, "but this is better than most."

"Nah, dude, you look good," David returned. "Have you eaten yet?" David asked as he hoisted his hot dog up to his mouth.

"Yeah, I got here early way before anyone else. I ate a couple of hours ago, and most everyone else ate while they were waiting for you to arrive."

"Wow," David observed, "There's still so much food; I hope it doesn't go to waste."

"It won't," a familiar voice came from behind. David turned to see Kurt who continued. "Don't forget, we have a group of McKinley jocks here, my dad who's been sneaking food all night despite what he's told you, and Finn whose stomach is apparently bottomless. I've seen you and your dad at work putting away food also. Plus, a couple of your Thurston friends stepped outside about a half-hour ago and came back in smelling like they'd smoked half of the Dominican Republic. A couple of the McKinley jocks were in on that one too. The food won't last, and if there is anything left over, you could take some home with you if you like."

David laughed heartily at Kurt's assessment of the food situation and was setting himself up with a second hot dog, having finished the first; Paul was doing the same. After David's laughter subsided, he looked at Kurt, thoughtful and serious. "You did all of this for me."

Kurt replied, smiling quietly, "No, well, I didn't do _all_ of this, I mean. Sean did probably as much as I did, and Gretchen did... "

"Kurt, stop being so humble and take some credit for this," David cut Kurt off. "You've been telling me all along that I should reconnect with my friends. I wanted to, but I didn't realize how right you were until I saw them all standing in front of me like this."

Kurt smiled to himself looking downward, feeling satisfied that he'd achieved what he'd set out to do.

"And you might try to tell me that I don't owe you anything for this, but geeze, Kurt, this is huge," David added.

Kurt looked up and smiled at David. "You don't owe me anything for this, David, just enjoy yourself right now. Work out any other particulars some other time."

There was a loud eruption of girls' laughter from fairly nearby. Kurt and David turned their gaze to see that Santana and Brittany had seemingly become fast friends with Gretchen. "Gretchen and Santana actually seem to have hit it off," David observed. "Who could have guessed that would have happened?"

The boys' gaze caught the attention of Gretchen, and she excused herself from Santana and Brittany to talk with them.

"So, where's Blaine tonight?" David asked Kurt as Gretchen approached the two of them.

Kurt rolled his eyes and huffed. "He was invited, but he chose to pass. I have no idea why."

"Cool ring," Gretchen remarked, noticing Kurt's ring.

"Thank you!" Kurt cheerfully replied. "I bought it at that art show last week."

"Black licorice and Canada mints," Gretchen replied.

"Huh?" Kurt muttered while David made a grimace.

"Pink and black," Gretchen explained. "Incredible color combination: black licorice and Canada mints"

"You're right about the colors," David offered. "They're cool, but I don't like either one of those kinds of candy."

"What are Canada mints?" Kurt asked.

David replied. "They're those mints that look like big pink pills. I used to call them Pepto Bismol mints because they're the same pink color. The color is okay, but the actual candy? Yuck."

Kurt chuckled. "Our David's a butterscotch guy," he explained to Gretchen.

"But back to what we were talking about, Dave could totally pull that off," Gretchen mused.

David raised an eyebrow, giving Gretchen a grin.

"Whaddaya think Kurt?" Gretchen queried. "Dave in a black suit with a hot pink tie?"

Kurt shot Gretchen a sly grin. "I like the way you think, Gretchen. The McKinley David would have never worn _anything_ pink."

David smirked at being an over-analyzed object of aesthetic attention. "Gretchen could probably get me to do that, but, guys, my face is probably hot pink right about now."

Kurt and Gretchen giggled maniacally to each other while David focused his attention on his hot dog."These hot dogs are great. I feel like I could eat, like, ten of 'em."

Kurt laughed and spoke loudly. "That's because those are _not_ -dogs. Meatless hot dogs. Rachel brought them. She's a vegan."

David laughed while Paul eyed the remainder of his _not_ -dog suspiciously. "That explains it. Well, give Rachel my compliments, but I think I'm going to need to move onto some actual animal flesh before I go into omnivore withdrawal. Meanwhile, you two can go back to getting your kicks by hypothetically objectifying me like a department-store mannequin in the big-and-tall section."

Gretchen grinned and elbowed David in his side at the comment.

"Ow!" David protested through laughter. "I'm eating here. You're gonna bruise my ribs and make me barf."

"Dave," Santana joined the group, "this girl giving you trouble?" Both girls giggled.

"Nah, Tana," David answered. "I'm just being a crybaby here."

David, having finished his second not-dog, filled a sandwich roll with meatballs and sauce. "Hey, while you're here, Santana, I wanted to ask you something,"

"Sure, Dave, what's up?" she answered.

"Well, I'm doing this oral history project about being gay in a small midwestern US city," David explained. "I was wondering if you'd let me interview you for my project. Britt also if she's up for it." David couldn't read Santana's expression, so he added, "You could be anonymous if you like, if that's going to bother you."

"No, that's cool; I'll do it, Dave," Santana's expression was one of surprise. "I'm kinda impressed by your project. It's like you've really embraced this."

David looked at Santana, a thoughtful, disarmed expression on his face. "Santana, I need to be kinda fearless about things. I haven't been exactly, but I know that's where I need to be. I can't let that crap get to me again; and I gotta remember that I can't get any lower or be hurt any worse than I already have been. And, yeah, I'm not quite there yet, but I want to get to the point where I can feel proud of who I am."

Santana smiled, understanding David's logic. David expanded. "You were a lot tougher than I was, but I don't think I can get dragged down again."

"It was easier for me, though, the peer thing," Santana explained. "The most threatening thing that happened to me was some dork on the hockey team volunteering himself to 'straighten me out'. Straight guys get off on girl-on-girl, but they freak out when it comes to guy-on-guy."

David nodded, glad his father was outside of earshot: it might have been an awkward conversation for Paul to overhear. David started in on his meatball sandwich and shifted to the other side of the table.

Gretchen was looking over Sam's shoulder as he queued the next song. "Ooh, don't play Gaga," Gretchen warned, "Dave doesn't do well with gay anthems."

Dave interjected. "I'm better with that now, Gretchen. Still not a favorite, though, but it doesn't freak me out like it did."

Sam smiled and nodded at David, "Gotcha, Karofsky," then turned to eye the intrusive Gretchen with some suspicion. She responded with a typical flirtatious grin.

Gretchen's phone lit up up with a text alert. She retrieved the message and spoke loudly enough for David to hear. "Hey, Dave. Johnno just texted me. He wants to come. Cool?"

David looked almost annoyed at the suggestion that it wouldn't be cool. "Yeah, tell him to get his butt over here."

"He's got Randy with him. Cool if he brings Randy?"

David looked around to see Kurt's expression which put a quiet, gentle persuasion to David to allow these people the chance to rebuild their friendship with him. "Yeah, sure, tell him to get both of their butts over here," David agreed after a moment of consideration.

David turned to Gretchen, having finished his meatball sandwich and dispensed of the paper plate. "So, I understand that you and Johnno are, like, dating now?"

Gretchen flashed an innocent expression. "Mm-hmm."

David smiled full and genuine. "That's awesome. I was trying to help you guys make that happen months ago."

"Yeah, me too," Gretchen contributed. "But really, it was what happened to you that eventually brought us together."

"Yeah, so I gathered," David' face sobered. "But, then, a few other good things came out of it, and I'm doing okay, so I guess there's nothing for me to feel weird about."

"David, Johnno really, like, looks up to you," Gretchen added. "The first time we got together after all that happened, Johnno cried, well, we both did."

"Okay, enough of this conversation, Gretchen," David responded shaking his head and smiling. "I mean, don't think I'm ignoring how you felt or anything, but I wanna be happy tonight, okay? And I want everyone here to be happy and not thinking about what I tried to do. I'm doing my best to leave it in my past, and I think I'm doing pretty well; and no one needs to be reminded."

Gretchen smiled, agreeing. David moved over to Chris Strando and the group of other guys from McKinley.

"Hey, guys, sorry I didn't make it over this way until now," David apologized on his approach.

"Hey, it's cool," Chris said as David arrived, shaking hands and getting hugged roughly by this old team-mates.

"Yeah, but, Strando," David said between greetings, "you got to have your way with me when I walked in the door; these guys have been waiting for over an hour for me to get over here."

The other guys whooped; David was impressed by how comfortable he'd become making jokes of that nature; Chris received the joke in the intended spirit, shaking his head. David greeted each by name as he shook their hands, "Brandon,... Jack,... Chuck, how is everyone?"

"Freaking great since you made it to our corner of the room," said Brandon. "Hey, we got a case of beer if you wanna hang with us after this."

"Aw, man, y'know, I came here with my dad," David explained, "I got a feeling I'll be leaving with him too, but I might be able to hang for a while if you guys can get me home."

"We can definitely get you there, Karofsky," offered Chris.

"Okay, then, two things," David began. "I'm not gonna get trashed, I'll have a couple of beers with you, but I'm not gonna come home wasted and piss off my dad. Second, you gotta have a designated driver: I'm not gonna be a party to one of you guys getting in trouble with the law."

"Got that covered," Jack offered. "I'm driving, and I wasn't going to drink."

David smiled, a genuine-but-crooked grin. "When did you guys get so responsible?"

Brandon contributed. "Jack's the responsible one, and if he's not around, we just don't do anything stupid. We save it up for when we _can_ do something stupid."

"Well, then, I'll check with my dad," David offered. "He should be cool as long as I'm not out too late and he doesn't know what you guys are up to."

David turned to touch base with his dad, to let him know what his friends had planned, only to find himself face-to-face with Johnno's piercing gray eyes and contagious smile.

"Johnno!" David, elated to see another of his Thurston friends broke a huge grin and hugged him tightly.

"Karofsky, man, so glad to be here," Johnno spoke softly in his deep, low-pitched speaking voice. "So glad to be able to see you, man."

"Same, Johnno, believe me." As David pulled away, he saw Randy a few steps behind appearing significantly less jubilant.

"Hey, Randy," David greeted him, shaking his hand, pulling him close to hug him. Randy resisted somewhat, a troubled expression on his face. "What is it, Randy" What's wrong?"

"Dude, I should have done something, both of us should have, Karofsky."

"Hey, tonight's not about that, okay," David spoke. "I want you to have a good time tonight. I'm happy to see both of you." David paused for a moment, taking in both of their faces; Johnno's face had likewise become somber. "But promise me something, guys. If you ever see anyone being treated like I was and you can do something about it, do it, okay? Do it for me, and the fact that I _almost_ couldn't be here to talk about it, okay? And guys, I'm so glad to be able to talk to you and see you tonight, so let's just have a good time, okay? I'm happy that you're here, and I'm happy that I can be here."

Gretchen walked up to Johnno and pulled him down into a kiss. David smiled, warmed at the sight of this.

"Hey, if you're hungry there's tons of food over there on the table," David informed them. "Also, I'd like you to meet my friends from McKinley."

David introduced Johnno and Randy to Strando, Brandon, Jack, and Chuck; then he walked with them over to the food table. Kurt was standing near the table with Mercedes, Rachel, and Finn nearby.

"Did you have a piece of cake?" Kurt asked David after he showed Johnno and Randy to the table.

"No, I haven't had any of the cookies or stuff like that," Dave replied, eyeing the items.

"Did you maybe eat too much to have cake right now?" Kurt directed at David again.

"Kurt, you don't know me well enough yet, obviously, or you'd know that I never pass on the sweet stuff," David smirking at Kurt.

"Okay, then," Kurt, smiling, handed David a piece of the cake on a paper plate and a plastic fork, "here you are."

"You had that all ready for me, didn't you?" David asked, stabbing the cake and forking it into his mouth and smiling, betraying surprise.

"Well, I'd have eaten it if you didn't want it," Kurt answered while cutting a slice for himself.

David laughed. "Okay, Hummel, butterscotch cake. Did _you_ make this?"

"Uh, no, I didn't make any of the food," Kurt admitted. "Gretchen brought the cake, but I suggested the flavor." Kurt lifted his slice of the cake onto a plate. "You see, David, this really _was_ a group effort."

"I still know that this was mostly you," David said, looking down at the plate and shovelling another forkful into his mouth, grin apparent on his face.

"Hey," Gretchen, Johnno in tow, approached Kurt with Santana and Brittany, "Santana and Brittany told me that you sing."

"Yes, that's true," Kurt looked up from his cake. "A number of us here do."

"Well, next Sunday at Club Neon, they're doing all-ages karaoke," Gretchen explained. "We were thinking of getting a bunch of us together and going. Are you game?"

"Sounds like it could be fun," Kurt remarked. "Who all is going?"

"Sean said he'd go," Gretchen began, "me and Johnno, Santana and Brittany said they'd go."

"That sounds good," Kurt agreed. "I'll ask Blaine if he wants to go. You wanna go, David?"

David shifted his eyebrows. "I'll go just to hang out, but I'm not singing anything."

"Oh, c'mon, Dave," Gretchen badgered, "I've heard you sing before."

"You've heard me yelling along with a song into my steering wheel, Gretchen: not the same as singing," David corrected. "I'd be cool with coming along, though."

"Did I hear you kids say you were going to karaoke at a _bar_?" Burt chimed in. "None of you are old enough for that."

"It's an early Sunday evening once a month, Mr. Hummel" Gretchen explained. "People our age go. You need to be twenty-one or older to drink, but any age can get in."

"I see," Burt said. "Y'know, when Kurt's mother and I were dating, we used to go to that kinda stuff all of the time."

"Really, Dad?" Kurt became animated at the revelation, "I didn't know that."

"Yeah," Burt spoke, capturing the attention of the majority of the party. "Your mom loved to sing, and she had a beautiful voice. I think that's where you get it from."

"What kinds of songs did mom sing?"

"She sang a few different kinds of things," Burt related. "She would sing Fleetwood Mac songs, 'Rhiannon' was her favorite. Every so often, though, she'd bust out a Janis Joplin tune like 'Piece of My Heart' or 'Bobby McGee' and just bring the roof down."

"Did you ever sing anything?" Finn, smiling, asked Burt.

"Um," Burt suddenly appeared to be put on the spot, "yeah, she'd get me to sing once in a while."

"Let me guess," Kurt offered, "Mellencamp?"

Burt laughed. "Yeah. 'Hurts So Good'."

Everyone around the room laughed at the title though only a few of them knew it.

"I was young and a little nuts, and Kurt's mom could get me to do stuff like that when we were dating," Burt admitted. "The thing is, though, your mom always brought the house down because she did songs that actually moved. A lot of people will get up there and sing slow love ballads, which are nice, but they're usually just trying to show off or something; and if you hear, like, five slow songs in a night or even a couple in a row, everyone's ready to go to sleep. The best times are when people get up and sing something that the rest of the people there want to clap and sing along with and have a good time listening to."

Burt rambled for a while longer; drawing nearly everyone's attention: his character possesses a markedly disarming charm. After another half-hour, the gathering was beginning to disperse. Howie, Spence, Justin, Corey, and Angela were preparing to leave. Sean was getting a ride home with Johnno and Gretchen but was staying to help Kurt clean up. Finn had left to take Rachel home, but he'd be back soon. Strando and the McKinley boys were outside, waiting for David to let his dad know that he'd be going out with them. Randy was asked if he wanted to join them as well, which he said he would as long as they'd get him home.

"Hey, Dad," David approached Paul. "Is it alright if I go out for a little while with Strando and the guys? They'll get me home, and if I'm going to be out past midnight, I'll let you know."

"Sure, David, that's okay," Paul answered. "That way, I can leave now. I'm sure you're going to want to say goodbye to all of your friends. Just, uh, stay out of trouble."

David smiled. "I will. So you're leaving now, Dad?"

"Yes," Paul answered, "Just as soon as I say goodbye to Burt and Carole."

"Alright, I'll see you later then, Dad."

"See you in a few, David."

David walked over to the table where Kurt and Sean were gathering items to be put away. "Hey, do you guys need any help?"

Sean looked up from the table, appearing somewhat tired; Kurt answered David's question. "No, David. Absolutely not, This is just about taken care of anyway." Kurt crumpled the disposable paper tablecloth into a ball and stuffed it in a plastic garbage bag.

"Kurt, Sean," David began, "really, thanks; this was amazing."

Sean smiled and approached David. "I'm glad that you had a great time. It was pretty great watching you get to see all of your friends again. I think Gretchen and Johnno are waiting for me, though."

"Then you should probably get going, Sean," David said.

Kurt looked up from wiping down the table. He had a quiet-but-satisfied expression on his face. "Are you going to thank me again? Because you really don't have to do that, David."

"Well, you really didn't have to do all of this, but you did, Kurt." The room was very quiet, and everyone was gone at this point. Kurt turned the folding table on its side so he could fold the legs and put it away. "Let me help you with that, Kurt." David walked over to the table, but Kurt had already folded it and was lifting it to carry to a corner of the basement.

"David, it's done already." Kurt turned from the place where he had left the table and faced David.

"Okay, Kurt." David summoned a small smile and two boys stood in silence for some time. "I guess I should get going. Guys are waiting for me."

"Sounds good, David. I thoroughly enjoyed this tonight. Don't think that, just because we did this for you, I didn't get something out of this also. Talk tomorrow?"

"Yeah, just give me a call or a text or something. Bye, Kurt."

"Good night, David."

David walked up the steps to let himself out. Carole had perhaps gone to bed, but Burt was outside on the front lawn talking with the David's friends.

"Hey, I guess I'm outta here, Mr. Hummel," David said while approaching Burt. "Thanks for everything. I know that this was mostly Kurt's doing, but he won't let me thank him any further."

Burt stood, looking at David, giving him a smile. "Honestly, Dave, I don't know how much of it was Kurt versus Sean and Gretchen. Kurt told me about it, and all I had to do was be here and let you in the door."

"Hey, Mr. Hummel, thanks for hanging out with my dad tonight. Since mom left, I think he's really lonely. He really doesn't have people he regularly hangs out with or anything."

"Dave, your dad and I hit it off pretty well," Burt responded. "He's welcome here any time he wants to sit around and BS or watch a game or anything." Burt paused, looking at David. "Same for you. You're welcome here any time, Dave." Burt patted David's shoulder.

"Thanks and goodbye, Mr. Hummel." David turned to meet his friends, and they piled into Jack's parents' minivan.

Jack put the vehicle on the road, and said to the passengers, "I know the ride is really uncool, but, hey, it seats the six of us comfortably, right?"

Chris reached into a picnic cooler located between the front seats and the second set of seats, pulling out five cans of beer and passing one to everybody except Jack. They popped their cans open, almost in unison, and Chris, holding his beer upward, said, "Here's to getting our old friend back: we love ya, Karofsky."

David chuckled and they all knocked their cans together causing small ceremonial amounts of foam to fly and fizz through the air between them.

A half-hour later found the van parked in a secluded spot on the edge of Heritage Park. Jack was looking out for passing cars, particularly police cars. Chris had consumed several cans of beer; David was on his second. The other three boys were somewhere in between.

Chris and David were leaning against the side of the van while Brandon sat inside the van, door open on the unseasonably warm March evening, Jack remained in the driver's seat drinking a bottle of sports-drink, and Chuck and Randy were wandering near the van, beers in hands, tinkering with their cell phones.

"Karofsky, man, It's so good to see you. I had a great time tonight." Chris was rambling.

"Strando, this was definitely a great night, but you're getting a little sloppy there." David replied.

"Ah, I got nowhere to go tomorrow. I can sleep it off, Karofsky."

"That's cool, Strando," David said, smiling. "I'm just extremely glad that all you guys are okay with me."

"Karofsky, dude, about a few weeks ago, I asked that Kurt Hummel how you were doing 'cause I heard he'd seen you, and he told me that I should call you or something, and, man, I shoulda done that weeks ago," Chris verbalized as best he could. "Anyone who ain't okay with you, man, fuckin' ain't okay with me."

Jack, Brandon, Chuck, and Randy were now encircling the two of them and verbalizing short phrases of agreement, raising their cans, or in Jack's case, fruit-punch-flavored Power-Ade.

"Guys, I'm no hero or anything," David said. "Basically, I'm the same guy you went to school with and played football with. And in the case of Jack, Strando, and Chuck, I'm a lot more easy-going than I was, but I'm the same guy otherwise."

"Yeah," Brandon spoke, "well, we mellowed a little since last year too, Karofsky."

"Yeah," Jack added, "everyone except Azimio."

"Aw," David interjected, "Don't go there, man, please?"

"No, I actually _am_ gonna go there," Chris spoke, somewhat louder than he should have given where they were and what they were doing. "When you hang with Az, if you don't, like, do what he wants to do or agree with him, he goes into this, like, spoiled-brat hissy-fit kinda thing and mopes. Dude, the world's bigger than the little narrow corner he lives in."

Chuck and Jack agreed, nodding. David laughed and spoke after a moment. "Y'know, Strando, you get philosophical when you drink. I like it."

David looked over at Randy, who'd been a little quiet, having just met Chris, Jack, and Chuck earlier in the evening. "Hey, Randy, quiet over there."

"Yeah, y'know, just a little tired at this point," Randy responded. "I was out with Terri before I got together with Johnno and met you guys."

"Yeah, I was gonna ask you how Terri was and why you weren't out with her tonight," David commented.

"Well, we were out earlier tonight, but I wanted to get together with Johnno so we could see you, Karofsky."

David smiled. "You know, you could have brought her along with you."

Randy laughed. "Ah, we, Terri and me, were out most of the afternoon, and she didn't want to be out late. I'll bring her along some other time."

"Hey, y'know, we gotta hang out more regular," Strando suggested enthusiastically, if drunk.

The rest of the guys verbally agreed, nodding.

"I'm up for that," David contributed. "I'm busy with school work, but my weekends are usually pretty uneventful. Just get in touch with me, we'll go from there." David lit the screen on his phone, checking the time. "Hey, it's nearly eleven-thirty. I really should be getting back. I told my dad I'd be back by midnight."

"Cool," Jack commented ad the other guys began climbing back into the van. Chris and David remained outside, finishing their beers.

"Karofsky, man," Chris stammered drunkenly. "I, just, fuckin', man,... so good to see you, K'rofsky. Man, so cool of that Kurt kid to invite us all and everything."

David smiled and shook his head as Chris hugged him clumsily. "Yeah, Strando, Kurt's a good guy, really a good friend. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, man," Chris got out as he backed away from David. "I'm jus' drunk. Havin' a good time with my friends."

"Cool, Strando, let's get on the road," David suggested, and the two took their places in the van.

Twenty minutes later, the van arrived at David's house after dropping Randy at his house ten minutes earlier.

"Hey, guys, thanks for coming tonight," David said just before exiting the van. "We gotta get together regularly." The van's other occupants nodded assent as they took turns shaking hands with David. David eyed Chris who seemed to be asleep or passed-out. "Is he gonna be okay? Keep an eye on him, definitely."

"Aw," Jack answered. "Yeah, I've seen him like this; hell I've seen him worse than this. He'll be okay."

Chris opened his eyes, appearing annoyed. "Aw, fusch, I'm fine, guys, jus’ trashed."

"You don't do this often, do you Strando?" David asked, hoping this kind of behavior wasn't a regular event for his friend.

Most of the guys shook their heads as Chris answered. "No, not often, but tonight was a special occasion. So good to see you, Karofsky."

"Good to see all of you too, guys," David said quietly to the group, now standing outside the van, sliding side door open. "Take care, be in touch, and keep an eye on Strando."

David walked to his front door and let himself in his house. As expected, Paul was still awake and waiting for him.

"Perfect!" Paul called out as he approached the entryway just after David closed the door behind himself. "It's just before midnight. Did you have a good time with your friends?"

"Yeah, Dad. I had a great time seeing everyone tonight. I love it that you were part of it also."

"I wouldn't have wanted to miss it." Paul and David stood in the entryway in silence for a few moments before David moved closer to the stairway.

"You're probably tired, and I should probably get up to bed soon too," David said finally. "Oh, yeah, Kurt's dad said you're welcome there anytime."

Paul smiled. "He's a very down-to-earth man. Easy to talk to. We get along well."

"I'm going to go upstairs. Good night, Dad."

"Goodnight, David. See you in the morning."

David climbed the stairs, changed his clothes, and eventually climbed into bed. He was awake for some time: not nervous or sleepless, but on a comfortable adrenaline high. He rolled over in his mind the conversations and reactions of the evening. He'd been afraid of rejection by his old friends (at worst) or them relating to them uncomfortably (at least); but neither happened. Somehow, and in the most surprising places, this thing that he feared revealing to his friends had actually brought some of his friends closer. Settling in on that warm thought, David drifted into a pleasant slumber.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 9,500

**Chapter 28**

 

**Monday March 26**

David's alarm woke him at five AM; he'd set it an hour earlier than that which had been his usual alarm time. He rose quietly, making an effort not to wake his father as he made his way through the dark house. He left a note for his dad informing him that he'd headed to Faurot Park for an early-morning run. He'd been planning to work that into his routine for a few weeks, but he hadn't yet begun: he'd felt that he needed to get some cardio exercise into his regular daily workout habits, and he decided the previous day that he'd begin that Monday, the twenty-sixth.

That decision wasn't the only thing that David accomplished on Sunday. He'd done a great number of things the day after the surprise gathering of his friends at Kurt's house; and the adrenaline rush of the event seemed to return in the morning the moment he rose from sleep.

He'd secured more interviews for his History project. At eleven AM, David received a text message from Rachel Berry confirming that her fathers, Hiram and Leroy, would be happy to contribute interviews (Rachel's promptness and air of professional enthusiasm more represented what David expected from Rachel as opposed to the more relaxed, sensitive girl he saw at Kurt's house the previous evening); all that remained for David was to contact the men and determine a time and place for the actual interview. Likewise, Santana had responded to David's text messages concerning her interview for the project, and the two made arrangements to meet later in the week (Santana had initially declined involving Brittany; but David convinced her that it would be an asset to his project if he had more than one female interviewee, and he promised to not include anything which did not meet with Santana's approval in the final project).

Sunday also saw David sending email messages to already-established interviewees Roger and Steve for the purpose of determining a time and place for their interviews; likewise, David sent a message to Jay because he had not yet received a response to his initial message sent two weeks before.

Waiting in David's Sunday inbox was a message from Sean which included a folder attachment containing many photos which he'd taken at Saturday evening's gathering (conspicuously absent were any photos of David with Kurt, a glaring oversight which disappointed David slightly and one for which Sean, wary of the unconscious exclusion, apologized).

Sunday was further filled with other more typical activities: customary phone conversations with Kurt and Sean, helping his dad install new software on his computer, and collaborating with his dad on dinner.

Although Kurt was humble about accepting thanks for the party, David knew that any majority of thanks for the event should be Kurt's; at any rate the act of reconnecting with his friends served to energize and motivate David in a way he hadn't felt since the fall when he began school at Thurston, but his energy was less scattered and his motivation more focused.

Dawn was breaking as David arrived at the park; the morning was brisk but not cold. He hadn't done any significant running since he was last in Phys Ed class over a month ago; and he hadn't done a heavy cardio-workout since football season. He was looking forward to the activity, but he knew that it would be draining for the first few days. After performing the routine stretching, he set out for his run. He had calculated a route on which he could run three miles with the option of more if his energy allowed. Four miles would have been great, but three miles would be adequate if he felt his stamina waning: he'd be working himself up to greater distances in the coming weeks, but he didn't want to push himself too hard on his first run. As he expected, David was fairly-well exhausted after three miles and decided that he shouldn't overdo anything. After about ten minutes of catching his breath, replenishing fluids, and cooling-down, he climbed into his truck and headed home.

He quietly let himself back into his house. It was still before six o'clock, and his father hadn't yet risen for the day. As usual, he started making the coffee and descended to the basement for his lifting regimen. As he expected, the entire workout felt different after the run. The sweat from the run had subsided, but he broke another while lifting. When he finished, he felt that he'd accomplished something provided he could keep the habit of running in the morning.

David returned upstairs to see that his dad was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. "Back from your run already?" Paul greeted, nodding toward the note David had left on the kitchen table.

"Yeah," David answered as he entered the kitchen with a towel draped around his neck and hair thoroughly wet with sweat. "I hope I'm not aching too badly tomorrow morning, because it feels really good right now. I hope I can convince you to come out with me sometime. Maybe a semi-regular thing?" David reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of sports-drink and a grapefruit.

Paul tossed his head side-to-side, considering the idea. "I'm sure some activity like a morning walk would benefit me, but five o'clock might be a bit early for me."

"Well, I'm thinking I'll probably start later on the weekend days because I won't need to be back here for Rupert," David offered, while peeling his grapefruit. "That might be easier for you."

"I will definitely think about that," Paul nodded. "Okay, don't hold me to it, but this Saturday, weather permitting, we can get out maybe around seven o'clock."

David laughed. "What is this 'weather permitting' garbage? I'm planning to be out there even if it's pouring rain."

"Cut me some slack, David," Paul shared the laugh with David as both finished their breakfast.

Paul was going to work as was typically the case lately; David showered and prepared his school materials, awaiting the arrival of Rupert at eight o'clock.

 

* * *

 

Kurt was getting books out of his locker when Blaine stopped by for his morning visit. The conversations between them had occasionally been tense. Kurt didn't understand this. He felt that he was relating to Blaine like they were friends (which they were); but sometimes Blaine seemed apprehensive on his approach, and sometimes he seemed to speak with a bitter edge to his words. Kurt was never sure which Blaine would arrive. Today's Blaine seemed generally friendly, if slightly more serious than usual.

"Hey, Blaine," Kurt greeted, cheerfully.

"Hi, Kurt," Blaine spoke with an expression that looked like the prelude to a smile which never arrived.

"So, did you have a good weekend, Blaine?"

"I kinda missed having Saturday with you," Blaine wore a slightly dejected expression.

Kurt shook his head. "Well, you were invited, and I still don't know why you didn't want to come, Blaine."

Blaine shook his head. "I'm not sure either. I guess I just wasn't up for a party."

"Well," Kurt explained, "I met some really interesting people from David's other school; and I mean 'interesting' in a good way and not 'interesting' the way people normally use it."

While Kurt was speaking, the shadows of three larger bodies fell between Kurt and Blaine. Both boys looked up to see Chris, Brandon, and Jack standing next to them.

"Hey, Kurt," Chris spoke, smiling. "Thanks for having us over Saturday night. We had a great time, and we're all really glad to reconnect with Karofsky." Brandon and Jack nodded and smiled in agreement.

Kurt smiled genuinely and widely as he answered. "You're welcome. David was really glad to see all of you too, that was obvious."

"Cool, man," Jack patted Kurt's shoulder, strange, Kurt thought.

"See ya 'round, Kurt," Brandon waved as the three boys walked away.

Kurt shut his locker and proceeded in his walk to homeroom while Blaine walked beside him.

"That reminds me, Blaine, some of the people at the party want to go to that all-ages karaoke at Club Neon this Sunday. Are you interested in going?" 

"Who all will be going?" Blaine asked.

"It was David's friend Gretchen who brought it up," Kurt explained. "Santana and Brittany said they'd go. Sean, who you've met; and David said he'd go, but he absolutely wouldn't be singing." Kurt laughed at the last part.

Blaine made an expression of uncertainty. "I'll think about it. Karofsky really said he'd go?"

"Yes, he said that he'd... "

"Hey, Kurt!" Chuck spoke loudly from across the hall, waving to Kurt from his open locker.

"Good morning, Chuck," Kurt greeted back toward him before turning back to Blaine.

Blaine's expression puzzled. "What's with all of these people that never gave you the time of day before suddenly being all nice to you today?"

"Blaine, we were at a party together," Kurt explained. "We all had a pretty good time together. I'd think that it's actually pretty normal that we don't act like we're complete strangers in the halls because we're not. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, David said he'd come to hang out with his friends."

The two boys slowed as they approached Kurt's homeroom.

"You have until Sunday to think about it, Blaine. It will probably be a good time."

Blaine tossed his head from side-to-side. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

 

* * *

 

It was seven-thirty, and Kurt had just finished cleaning the kitchen after eating dinner. Though he often ate by himself on weeknights, he'd otherwise occupy himself in a text-conversation with Mercedes while he ate. Kurt had the house to himself at the moment, but the arrival times of Finn and Sam were never constant.

Kurt picked up his phone and found David's number among his contacts and dialed, assuming that he was finished with dinner also.

"Hey, hello," David greeted enthusiastically after a few rings, noise very audible in the background.

"Hi, David," Kurt answered back. "What's going on? Sounds noisy over there."

"Well, Sean came over to bring me up-to-date on the in-class discussion stuff which he does every week; then Strando called about a half-hour ago, so he and Sean are both here. Strando and I were playing Modern Warfare 3, and Sean was being entertained by watching us."

Kurt smiled upon hearing that Chris had come to visit David.

"It's Kurt, I'm talking to Kurt," Kurt heard David say to one or both of his guests.

"Hi Kurt!" Kurt heard Chris bark across the room.

Kurt giggled. "I should let you get back to that then, David."

"Uh, it's cool, but I gave Sean my controller, and I think I'm dead now," David said through a laugh. "He once told me that he's terrible at video games, and I'm watching it in action." Kurt could hear David muttering something to his guests, once again, while laughing. "Hey, Kurt," David finally said, "I'll call you back a little later, okay?"

Kurt laughed. "Sure, David. Whenever your guests are gone, I'll be here."

 

* * *

  

"Hey, Strando, refill on your soda?" David asked as he returned to the gameroom after seeing Sean to the door.

"Nah, I'm good, thanks," Chris replied, leaning back into the gameroom couch.

David grabbed the remote control before sitting down on the recliner and checking the on-screen guide.

"Hey, Karofsky?"

"What's up?" Chris's question drew David's attention away from the television screen.

Chris hesitated for a moment. "Um, that Kurt kid?"

"Yeah," David answered, "what about him?

"Well, like, we used to mock him all the... "

"Yeah, Strando, I remember," David interrupted, "I really don't wanna talk about that."

"Well, no, that's not what I was getting at," Chris finished. "What I was gonna say was that he's a really nice kid."

"Yeah, Kurt's become a really good friend, like, an amazing friend," David offered.

"Well, like, the way Kurt acts and dresses always kinda weirded me out; and that Blaine kid is kinda different too, similar to Kurt," Chris continued, "and I always thought that was how all gay people were." Chris paused a moment before he continued. "I mean, like, even after I got to thinking that I didn't have a problem with them, like when I realized that they were nice guys and everything, and the fact that they're gay really isn't anything that's, like, uncool or something, I still had this idea that all gay dudes acted like they do."

David looked at Chris, a somewhat blank expression on his face, unsure of where the conversation was going. Chris spoke again. "I guess what I'm getting at is, like, why aren't more gay dudes like you? I mean, you're pretty-much the same guy you always were."

David smiled, chuckling a bit.

"No, no, wait a second," Chris stammered, nervously for a moment. "That's not what I meant, like I wasn't going to imply that you just, like, turned gay one day or something. I understand that you were always gay. What I wanted to ask you was, like, why can't more gay dudes be like you, y'know? I mean, you and me are pretty similar guys in a lot of ways, but I like girls and you like guys. I guess it might have taken me less time to realize that people like Kurt are alright if they were more like, y'know, regular guys."

David shook his head as he answered. "Dude, I struggled with that. Even after realizing that I'm gay, I never felt _gay enough_ to fit with that crowd. I felt like the biggest misfit sometimes; you can't imagine. And even after I met some guys who were more like, just average guys like me, I'd meet other gay dudes that sometimes made me feel like an outcast."

Chris observed David's face as he spoke, listening to him intently. "So, like, they... don't _like_ it when guys like you are gay?"

David laughed for a moment. "No, it's not that. Some guys, whether they're straight or gay, are just kinda difficult to get along with no matter what. The thing is that none of us are defined by our orientation. Same as straight guys. Take three examples: say, you, that Brett kid, and Jake Israel. You're the football guy, Brett's a stoner, and Jake is, like, the hyper kid with the blog. Nobody refers to you three as 'those three heterosexual guys'. So, Kurt, Blaine, and I are gay? There's gotta be more interesting stuff about us than that one fact, especially to a straight person, right? So, yeah, Kurt's fashionable and likes showtunes; and Blaine dresses all preppy, but did you know that Blaine boxes and likes college football?"

Chris looked confused. "You mean that Blaine boxes, as in, the _sport_ , or, like, he has a job at Mailboxes Etc. or a place that does a lot of mail order shipping?"

David laughed a full, heavy laugh. "No, Strando, the sport. He boxes."

"He is kinda built like a boxer, now that I think of it," Chris stated, eyes thoughtful, staring into space.

"Just like everyone else, Strando, we're all different, and we're all attracted to different types of people," David explained. "Like you straight dudes: some guys like blonde, skinny girls; some dudes like beefy gals; you dig hot chicks in cow masks."

"Oh, man, shut up!" Chris laughed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I remember that, Strando," David said through a snicker. "Actually, Kurt reminded me of it last weekend. He and Blaine went out to that coffee house on St. Patrick's Day, and it reminded me of you hitting on that chick."

Chris shook his head, laughing. "Dude, I was pretty smashed. Mostly I just remember that she had a hot body and the place was all trippy; and, yeah, the cow mask."

The two sat quietly chuckling for a few minutes.

"Hey, Karofsky, I should get moving," Chris said.

"Well, Strando, I'm glad you came by," David said while standing. "Don't be a stranger"

Chris stood and the two walked toward the front door. "Definitely not, Karofsky. Maybe we can do something over the weekend."

"Sure," David agreed. "I'm supposed to be doing something Sunday afternoon, but Friday night or Saturday could work."

David showed Chris to the door and returned to the gameroom to retrieve his phone and collect the empty glasses to return them to the kitchen.

"Hey, Dad," David called to Paul from the kitchen to the family room, "going upstairs, might be crashing for the night."

"Good night," Paul called back.

"Good night, Dad."

David climbed the stairs and settled into his bedroom. He wasn't ready to go to sleep yet, but he wanted to check his email and look over some of his lessons after he called Kurt.

"Hello, David," Kurt sounded cheerful when he answered the call.

"Hey, Kurt," David replied. "How was your day?"

"I had a decent day," Kurt remarked. "Nothing out-of-the-ordinary to report. Finished my homework a while ago, and I was looking for potential songs for my NYADA audition. Did you have a good time with Chris and Sean?"

"Yeah, Sean's cool and Chris is a lot of fun. I reminded him about the coffee house with the cow-headed hot chick."

Kurt laughed. "Did you tell him that Blaine and I went there?"

"Yeah, well, I was telling him how not all of us gay guys are attracted to the same kinda guys, and I reminded him that some straight dudes are attracted to hot chicks in cow masks."

"Uh-oh, he wasn't afraid that you were attracted to him, was he?" Kurt sounded wary. "That can be a difficult thing."

"No, nothing like that," David assured. "He seems like he's really comfortable with that part of me. He was just curious how, like, he knows three gay guys, you, me, and Blaine, and we're all different."

"Sounds like an interesting conversation, David."

"It was, and I think it maybe will make him more comfortable around other gay people. I don't think he has a problem with any of it, but the more someone knows, the less reason there is to be afraid."

"True," Kurt agreed. "So, did you do anything else interesting today?"

"I started running first thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've been trying to work that into my daily routine for a while, and I just decided that I'd start today," David explained. "I got up at five AM, drove out to Faurot Park, and ran a few miles. Then back home and had breakfast with Dad. Normal day after that."

"That's really awesome, David."

"Yeah, just hope I can keep it going most every day. It definitely felt really good when I was done, well, after about a half-hour after I was done." David paused for a moment. "Then Rupert came over and we did the lessons, then dinner with Dad, then Sean and Chris came over. That's pretty-much my whole day."

"Well, it sounds like a good day," Kurt commented. You're running again tomorrow, I take it?"

"Yeah," David answered, "unless I wake up sore from running today."

"Well, I think I am done for the evening, David," Kurt said, sounding somewhat tired. "Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Cool. Goodbye, Kurt."

"Good night, David."

 

**Wednesday March 28**

"Hello, David," Kurt answered his phone, surprised to hear from David first as it was usually Kurt who made the evening phone call to David.

"Hi, Kurt," David replied. "I beat you to it today."

Kurt laughed. "I was just thinking exactly that. How was your day?"

"Well, pretty-much the same as yesterday: got up early and ran, lifted, breakfast with Dad, school stuff," David recounted. "Oh, I did make plans to get together with Santana and Brittany to interview them for my project. Unless something else comes up, we'll be doing that tomorrow evening."

"Well, that sounds like it will add another different perspective to your project," Kurt commented. "And you're keeping up with the running alright?"

"Yeah, I actually enjoy getting out there first thing in the morning." David paused, and there was silence for a moment. "Hey, why don't you join me sometime? Like on a Saturday or Sunday when you aren't getting ready for school?"

"Me? Really?"

"Why not? I know you could do it, I mean, you're obviously in shape, and you're a dancer. I know you must be pretty athletic to dance some of those really involved routines that you do"

"David, I just don't think it's me."

"Well, Kurt," David reasoned, "um, let me guess: you spend, what, thirty minutes a day on an elliptical machine?"

"Forty-five, actually."

"Well, don't get me wrong, the elliptical is definitely a good workout, but forty-five on an elliptical is nothing like the workout you get from twenty minutes of running: it feels different, it affects the whole system differently."

"I don't know, David," Kurt repeated, "It's just not something I see myself doing."

"Well, never hurts to ask," David reassured. "Really, I was just kinda looking for someone to run with. I was trying to get my dad to go out with me too, but he'd just be walking. Oh, hey! I got another call coming in, Sean's calling me. Um, let me see what he wants, and I'll give a call back later, okay?"

"Yeah, tell Sean I said 'hi', okay? Goodbye, David."

"Later, Kurt."

David picked up Sean's incoming call, ending the call with Kurt.

"Hey, Sean. What's going on?"

"Hey, Dave," Sean sounded somewhat excited. "Can I come over?"

"Uh, Sure," David paused sounding caught slightly off-guard. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Dave, everything's good, I just wanna talk to you."

"Okay, sure."

"I can be over in about fifteen; is that okay?" Sean asked.

"Uh, like I said, yeah, that's fine, are you sure everything's okay?" David repeated.

Sean laughed. "Yeah, everything's actually good. I just wanna talk to you."

"Okay, no problem. See you in a little bit."

"Bye, Dave."

It wasn't completely dark when Sean arrived at David's house almost exactly fifteen minutes from the time they talked. David was a little unnerved by the urgency of Sean's request, but Sean didn't sound like anything was wrong. David answered the front door and let Sean in; from there the two went up to David's bedroom.

Sean took a seat on the wooden trunk and folded his hands in front of him as he sat, fidgeting with his fingers slightly. David stood, fighting the urge to pace.

"Sean, dude, you're making me nervous," David spoke. "What is it?"

Sean looked up at David. "I came out to my parents today."

David's face betrayed genuine surprise, some concern. "Really? How'd it go?"

Sean smiled, it appeared a smile of relief. "It went okay, actually pretty good."

David smiled. "Sean, dude, I'm so happy for you. It really went okay for you?"

"Yeah, well, at first it was weird. I expected some of that, but it never really got tense or anything. I told them and talked about it with them for a while, then kinda left it for them to talk about it with each other, then we all sat down, and, yeah, they said that they couldn't exactly think of it as 'good news', but they told me that they loved me and they're glad I told them like I did instead of trying to hide it."

David continued to smile; he was genuinely happy for Sean.

"Then, they kinda joked that they already have four grandchildren from my sister and my brother, so, like they had the grandparent thing already covered."

David laughed and Sean continued.

"Dave, I wanted to tell you because, well, you were the first to know."

Dave nodded, taking that comment more seriously, understanding the weight of what Sean had said.

"I also wanted to tell you because you helped me with this."

David's face showed surprise. "Um, how did _I_ help you, Sean?"

Sean smiled and shook his head. "You're the first gay person I knew other than myself, and, yeah, I saw how bad it was for you; but I also saw you bounce back from that bad stuff you went through. Then, when I was at Kurt's on Saturday night, I saw how all of your friends were cool with it, and I see how you get along with your dad. Okay, I know things aren't good with your mom; but, I thought that if things for me ended up being anything comparable to what I saw Saturday night, or even half that good, I'd be okay. I mean, I know my friends will be cool with this because they're mostly your friends too; I know I already have a support structure." Sean shook his head, appearing overwhelmed but sublimely happy. "Dave, man, you helped me immensely with this. I wanna hug you."

"Get over here, Sean," David smiled and slowly lifted his arms as Sean stood and walked into David's embrace. David felt Sean hold onto him firmly, but not tightly.

Sean spoke, slightly muffled into David's shoulder."I just couldn't wait to tell you, Dave. I couldn't do it over the phone either. I had to come over and tell you tonight."

David exhaled unsteady breaths like fragments of an elated laugh as he felt tears pooling in his eyes. Sean pulled away after a few moments and David sat down beside Sean on the wooden trunk.

"Have you told anyone else?"

"Not yet," Sean answered. "I'll probably tell Gretchen next, but I doubt she'll be surprised."

"You don't think?" David questioned.

"Dude, she knows she's hot, I'm kinda her type, and we've been best friends for years. What do you _think_ her reaction is going to be?"

David smiled, shaking his head. "Okay, so, after that, now what do we talk about?"

Sean laughed. "I don't want to impose upon your evening any longer, Dave. Thanks for letting me come and talk, and thanks for being a great friend."

"Dude, you're welcome," David responded. "You're a damned good friend to me also. Oh, I almost forgot, Kurt said 'hi'. I was talking to him when you called me."

"Well, tell him I said 'hi' also,” Sean countered as he stood. “I'm going to get moving, Dave."

"Hey, hang on for a second before you leave," David said, his expression sobering. "Um, Sean," David paused for a moment, "this isn't going to make things weird between us now or anything, is it?"

Sean's expression became serious as he read David's expression. "I don't think so, Dave. I mean, you know how uptight I can be. I don't think I'm about to dive head-first into anything while I'm still getting my grip on where my head is here. Plus, I have the rest of the school year to think about, and I don't wanna get distracted from that. You've been this incredible friend and inspiration to me. I wouldn't want to mess with that dynamic right now." Sean paused for a moment studying David's expression for a reaction. "I take it from your original question that we're kinda on the same page here?"

David smiled, relieved. "Yeah. I'm glad that makes sense to you. The first other gay dude I knew, well, I just read a lot more into it than I should have." David's face became serious as he addressed Sean directly. "I'm so happy for you, Sean. Thanks for telling me all this; and, yeah, if I helped you with this, that's fantastic, and it makes me feel great in that I had a part in this."

David opened his bedroom door and patted Sean lightly on the shoulder as they exited into the stairwell and descended to the entryway and the front door. David watched as Sean's car exited the driveway, turned, and drove into the darkness. As David closed the door, Paul approached the entryway.

"Everything okay, David?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, Dad. Sean just wanted to stop by and talk for a while, that's all."

Paul patted David firmly on his shoulder as David turned to climb the stairs back up to his bedroom, closing the door behind him, moving slowly, sublimely content. He dialed Kurt's number as he'd told Kurt that he'd call back.

"Hello, David," Kurt was characteristically perky.

"Hi, Kurt," David was almost dreamlike.

"So. everything okay with Sean?"

"Yeah, he just wanted to talk for a while."

"Gotcha. It was kinda great working with him to arrange your party," Kurt offered. "Socially, he is kind-of awkward, but he has a really practical mind for organizing that stuff."

David laughed. "Yeah, he's a kinda brainy-nerd. Some of those people can be socially inept, but he's super-smart; and he was the first person I made friends with at Thurston. Oh, yeah, he told me to tell you that he said 'hi' back at you." David sounded animated suddenly.

Kurt laughed. "Well, I'm finishing a reading assignment I started right after I got off the phone with you before, and I might be retiring early tonight, David."

"Okay, well, I have some school work to look at also," David replied. "I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure, David," Kurt replied. "Goodbye, David."

"Later, Kurt."

David ended the call and attended to some school work. It was fairly early in the evening, and he was able to get his assignments completed and read ahead to the next day's work in a couple of subjects.

Later that night, as David lay awake waiting for sleep to come, he considered his conversation with Sean. The thoughts that greeted him were really unlike any he'd known. The gravity of the idea that he'd helped and inspired Sean gave him a weighty contentment; almost a responsibility to his friend: one that he welcomed without reservation. As he drifted to sleep, David felt he was aware of something shifting: he was in motion. He'd somehow, though unconsciously, made a difference for someone. It was nearly a year after Kurt's suggestion at the prom that David "make a difference", but this was a more natural progression, one not forced by suggestion. The circumstances of life might have kicked David into motion on a few occasions, sometimes mercilessly; but this movement was one of David's own volition, and it was the first significant time that David observed the results of his actions and wasn't greeted with a vision of wreckage. He came to understand that, as much as he'd been the cause of trouble and hardship for himself and others in the past, he could henceforth be a catalyst for positive change.

 

**Friday March 30**

Rupert had left early, needing to stay only long enough to administer two tests; the remainder of the day's lesson plan consisted of reviewing the week's material, and David was ahead of the actual classes in most cases.

In other areas, David had settled comfortably into the routine of his morning run; he actually found himself looking forward to it, the sound of his alarm motivating him daily.

The previous evening, he'd interviewed Santana and Brittany for his Oral History project, and the results were unexpected. Unlike the sincere interview given by Kurt and the clinical interview from Blaine, Santana revealed herself as confrontational and somewhat angry: typically full of attitude but with a bitterness David hadn't predicted. Brittany's interview was not without merit, though it might require some time to locate the poignant pieces of her interview among the well-ventilated thoughts which dominated her monologue.

David planned on listening to the playback, and descended to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of sports-drink to take up to his bedroom. Before he left the kitchen, he heard Paul's car pulling into the driveway outside and watched as Paul entered the Kitchen from the basement carrying a pizza and a couple of bags.

"Hi, Dad," David greeted. "Early day at work?"

"Yep!" Paul answered back. "Early dinner?"

"Sure, Dad," David welcomed the suggestion. "It's only three-thirty, but I didn't eat lunch yet, so, yeah, dinner's great."

Paul and David ate the early dinner comfortably, casually recounting points of their days. It was about four-thirty when David and Paul had finished cleaning the kitchen table. Leftover pizza had been placed in the refrigerator, but, given the early time at which they dined, the pizza might not last until breakfast time.

"I'll be going out around six," Paul mentioned. "I'll be gone for about an hour or so. You'll be okay, right?"

"Sure, Dad," David answered. "Where are you going?"

Paul sobered somewhat. "I'll be taking some things out to your mother."

"Oh." David's tone dropped.

"You'll be okay, though, right?" Paul spoke more focused than previously.

David nodded. "Sure, dad, no problem," affected indifference.

David climbed back up to his bedroom. He cued the recording of Santana's interview and began listening to it, but he couldn't concentrate. He was probably twenty minutes into the playback when he realized that he hadn't retained anything he'd heard.

Frustrated, preoccupied, restless, and somewhat angry, David turned the playback off and turned on his CD player. In it was the mix CD that Gretchen made for him months ago. He set the player on shuffle and reclined onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the music, some of which was familiar, some was not as he'd never actually listened to the entire CD.

Four songs into the music, he heard the sound of a ringing church bell. For a moment, he thought that Gretchen had put an AC/DC song on the CD (surprising, but not unthinkable given Gretchen's wide-ranging musical taste); but, instead of loud blues-guitars, the song-proper began with piano, drums, and vocals in a spare arrangement. The music, though not especially fast, sounded urgent; the vocal sounded hurt and angry.

_Mother, you had me_  
 _But I never had you_  
 _I wanted you_  
 _But you didn't want me_  
 _So_  
 _I got to tell you_  
 _Goodbye  
_ _Goodbye_

It was as if David could inhale the song's intensity as the urgency grew to a primal-scream-mantra repeated over-and-over at the end of the song as the sound faded.

_Mama don't go, Daddy come home_

David's eyes wanted to fill with tears, but David fought them back. He stood up from his bed, focused, turned the music off, and descended the stairs to see his father with a suitcase in his hand, about to take it to his car.

"I'm about to leave, David," Paul said. "You'll be okay, right?"

David reached for the suitcase. "Dad, let me go, I'll take it out to her."

Paul's face puzzled and sobered.

"I want to talk to mom," David said in response.

"Okay, David," Paul gave no resistance to the suggestion. "You'll call if you need to, right?"

"Yeah, Dad, I just wanna talk to mom."

David took the suitcase and placed it on the floor of the passenger-side of the cab of his pickup and began driving. It was five-thirty, and the sky was just beginning to darken. His aunt's house had an efficiency apartment on its ground-floor, accessible through a door in the back of the house, where his mother was staying.

The sky was streaked with the purple of dusk and the orange of the setting sun as David climbed from his truck and approached the door to the apartment. He rang the bell and waited approximately thirty seconds which felt endless, his head facing downward, his hands in his pockets. The door opened and his mother's eyes met his. She was stunned.

"Mom, I want to talk to you. I just want to talk. All I want you to do is hear me out." David made his voice as gentle and accommodating as possible. "There's a suitcase for you in my truck. I'll get it when I finish talking."

Lorraine opened the screen door and wordlessly invited David inside. Her expression was marked with sadness upon seeing David before her. The two sat at opposite sides of a small dinette table. David addressed his mother's face directly with his. She didn't look away.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself and tell you things we've already been through. We can go back-and-forth about what's a choice and what's not a choice for hours and accomplish nothing. That's not why I'm here."

David breathed deeply but with control, eyes fixed on his mother's. "I want to say that I love you, and Dad loves you, and we both miss you." At this, Lorraine looked away: there was some element of hurt which she couldn't face. David's expression and words were determined, however.

"You said, just before you left, that I had a disease." David paused, collecting his idea into a statement. "Since I got out of the hospital, Mom, I feel healthier than I have in years. Up here." He pointed to his head, eyes widening upon the gesture like punctuation to his words. "The disease was everything that I was before I understood who I am. All the rage and self-hate and abusing other people and disciplinary problems and falling grades: _that_ was the disease. Honestly understanding who I am? _That's_ what cured me."

His mother was facing forward, toward David, but her eyes were focused downward into the table top.

"Mom, the way I see it, I have three options moving forward with that part of my life. Option one is to pretend that I'm straight, marry a woman who I might love but I can't ever have a fulfilling relationship with, and ultimately be miserable and make her miserable in the process. I really don't see that as an option." David shook his head at the prospects of that scenario. "Option two would be to pretend that I'm straight but never pursue the idea of having a partner. Sounds kinda sad, huh? Option three would be me being honest and actually trying to find someone that I could share my life with. Now, I fully understand that the outcome of options two and three _could_ be the same, but I feel like I at least need to try."

Lorraine's head was still facing downward, but her eyes were looking upward, not quite addressing David's face, but rising in level. She remained silent.

"Mom, you and Dad both told me, at different times in the past, about how you and him dated for two years before you got engaged; you waited almost a year to get married after that; it was a little over three years after you were married that you had me. It's not like you _had_ to get married or something. You were, I'm guessing, in love with Dad."

At this, Lorraine made a choking noise and began to cry but remained seated, listening to David's words.

"Mom, do you remember what it felt like when you fell in love with Dad?"

His mother nodded jerkily through silent sobs.

"I'm your son. Would you really deny me the feeling of falling in love? Would you really have me go through life without ever knowing that?"

David's voice was soft; he was appealing without pleading. In his words was resolve despite the softness in his approach.

Lorraine was crying, a crumpled, saturated tissue in her hand.

"Okay, Mom. That's what I've got. You can think about it. If you change your mind about me or this situation, well, if you should do that, let us know."

David stood from the table. His mother remained seated. "I'm going to go out to my truck and get your suitcase. Be back in a minute." David's words were soft.

As David approached the door and reached for the handle, he turned to look again to look back. His mother had risen from her seat and was standing a few feet away from David, moving slowly, silently toward him. Her face was wet with tears, and her hands seemed drawn in close toward her face, her watering eyes; but she reached out as much as she could, trying to extend her arms to embrace her son. David instinctively reached out to her, enfolding her gently in his strong arms.

Lorraine spoke, a gravelly, sobbing whisper. "I love you, David. I wha... I want you to be happy."

"Are you ready to be okay with who I am?" David asked, once again, soft but determined.

Lorraine nodded, tightly-closed eyes and flowing tears.

"Are you ready to accept everything that comes with that, including me having a partner someday?"

Lorraine choked out a nearly unintelligible, "Yes," followed by a louder, more understandable, but pained-sounding, "Yes, yes I am," as she pulled herself tightly into David's chest, crying into his flannel shirt.

David lightly ran his hand over her shoulders as he spoke with a new strength in his soft voice. "Come home to Dad and me. Come home with me tonight."

David loosened his hold on Lorraine and touched her chin with his hand, inclining her face to meet his eyes. "Dad misses you. I miss you. Come home tonight, okay?"

She nodded, saying nothing. David almost smiled as he let go of his hold.

"Grab just stuff that you need. You can come back and get the rest of your stuff another time."

Lorraine went into her bedroom and began gathering items into two overnight bags and grabbed her purse. David followed her into her bedroom as she gathered items. He looked around to see a framed photo on her bedside table. It was an image of Paul, Lorraine, and David from about three years prior while they were on vacation. _She must have looked at it every night before she went to sleep_ , David thought. _She'd never stopped loving him or his dad_. After zipping closed the two bags, Lorraine looked up at David. Her face was still wet, but the tears had slowed.

"Is that everything you're taking?" David asked.

Lorraine nodded. David picked up the bags with one arm; he wrapped his other arm gently around his mother's shoulder and walked her out to the door, then to the outside. He waited as she locked the apartment, then led her to his truck. He placed the suitcase from earlier in the evening and the two bags behind the seats and helped his mother into the passenger seat.

Night had completely fallen by this time. The ride back home was silent but comfortable. At one point, David reached his right hand over and offered it to Lorraine. She accepted it and gripped it tightly. David glanced over at her face and gave her a reassuring look.

 

* * *

 

"Dad?"

It wasn't late, but Paul had fallen asleep on the easy-chair in the family room after drinking a glass of wine. David's voice roused him from a deep slumber.

"Dad, look." David spoke again.

Paul stood slowly from his chair to see David standing at the threshold of the family room with Lorraine by his side. Paul's mouth gaped open in a kind-of mixture of shock and elation. Lorraine's face pulled into a wide smile, eyes dry but still red. Paul shook his head as he approached, still fearing he was asleep. David's face was surrendering to its urge to smile finally as he held his mother's hand up to Paul as he approached. Paul and Lorraine fell softly into each other's arms as David backed away, taking in the image and smiling almost deliriously.

David had left the suitcase and bags in the entryway; and he thought it best to quietly go upstairs to his bedroom and allow his parents this moment, this evening to themselves. By the time he entered his bedroom and closed the door behind himself, he was crying tears of bliss, satisfied in himself and what he'd accomplished this night.

He had two phone calls to make.

"Hello, David."

"Hey, Kurt," David's voice was rough from holding back tears, then actually crying.

"David? Have you been crying? Are you alright?"

"Yes... Yes Kurt." David's words were emphatic but he was keeping his volume low. "My mom came home tonight." David paused, breathing loudly. "I _have_ been crying, I'm so fucking happy, Kurt."

Kurt was speechless for a time; when he finally spoke, he nearly exhaled the words as if voicing them more loudly might destroy the truth in them. "David, that's amazing news. What happened?"

David's crying had subsided, but his voice was still raw. "Kurt, I wanted to talk to her. I had stuff I thought about that I needed to say to her. My dad was gonna drive some of her stuff out to her tonight, but I told him I'd go instead. I talked to her, and, next thing I knew, she was saying that she'd accept me and everything that came with that, and I was driving her home."

"David, that is incredible; that is beyond incredible!"

"I left her and my dad alone downstairs. Kurt, he looked so happy; my dad looked so happy." David was breathing loudly between words. "I just need to come down off of this high I'm on right now so I can get some sleep tonight."

"David, I am so happy for you," Kurt spoke softly, controlled, sincerely.

"I wanted to share this with you, Kurt. You've kinda been on this journey with me from the beginning, well, more than anyone else."

"David, thank you for telling me. This is really incredible news to end the day with."

"Well, I wanna give Sean a call also. And I wanna get some sleep so I can get up at seven and go running tomorrow."

"Your dad going with you?"

David laughed. "Oh, I'd never hold him to that. He hasn't spent the night with his wife in over a month. I'd never expect him to get up early after that."

Kurt giggled. "Call Sean, and get some sleep, then David. Thanks so much for letting me know."

"You're welcome, Kurt. Goodbye."

"Good night, David."

David called Sean to be greeted with a reaction similar to Kurt's. David felt that he wanted to share this wonderful development with Sean as Sean had informed David of his good news earlier in the week. The conversation was short but perfect.

Though David was energized by the evening's events, he settled and had little trouble sliding into a perfect night's sleep.

 

**Saturday March 31**

Although it was not fully light as David climbed out of his truck upon his arrival at Faurot Park, the sun was beginning to streak the sky with gold. As David began performing his routine stretches, he saw a pair of headlights approaching and slowing. The attached vehicle was familiar: Kurt's Navigator. The car parked, and the door opened.

"Kurt? What are you doing here?"

"You asked me earlier in the week, remember?"

"Sure," David was kind-of half-smiling. "I just didn't think you'd come, that's all." David paused. "But I'm glad you did. I was just stretching. You know how to stretch yourself so you don't tense-up?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes, it's just as important for a dancer to do that."

David observed Kurt. He looked markedly different. This wasn't merely relaxed like he'd appeared previously; this was downright hard in a masculine way, like he'd found a gameface for this physical activity. He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and gray sweatpants with a black sweatband and silver-gray running shoes. Kurt's features still retained their delicate qualities, but his overall appearance was, for lack of a better word, tough. And it actually looked good, appropriate, on him, David decided.

David had to break his gaze away from Kurt while the two stretched. David spoke a bit while they stretched.

"I don't know how fast you can run. I'm not super fast or anything, but I have a long stride. Just pace yourself out; don't overdo it. If I pull ahead of you, don't try to catch up with me. I'll backtrack for you if I need to. I have water and sports-drink and towels in the truck for when we're done."

Kurt was silent, concentrating, psyching himself.

After a few minutes the two embarked on their run. Kurt was a fair match for David, sometimes pulling ahead, falling behind other times; but the two were never very far from each other. David observed Kurt's form. He'd thought that Kurt would have the appearance of a girl when he ran, but he didn't. Kurt channeled an almost-perfect track-athlete form. Really, it wasn't surprising when David thought about it: Kurt did have a build that was similar to that of a runner.

The two made it back to their cars after running patterns which accumulated slightly over three miles in distance. As the two slowed to a halt, Kurt bent over and propped himself, hands on knees, backing against David's truck. He was breathing loudly as he looked up at David who was also gasping. David was trying to read something other than exhaustion in Kurt's expression when Kurt spoke between pants.

"My lungs are on fire. I hate you right now."

David fought the urge to cringe or laugh (well, it _was_ a funny statement). "Just let your body and your breathing level out." David unlocked his truck and removed two towels and two bottles of water. He draped one towel around his neck and another over Kurt's back. Then he held one of the bottles of water in front of Kurt so he could see it. Kurt stood slowly from his bent position and took the bottle from David.

Kurt's face was red, but his breathing had leveled. His face wasn't angry at all. He opened the bottle of water and slowly drank from it. He raised it, addressing David with his eyes, nodded, and spoke, "thank you."

The two stood catching their breath for some minutes as the sky became brighter.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" David said with a hint of affected guilt.

Kurt laughed, still breathing heavily. "No, not at all."

"You said you hated me five minutes ago."

"Well, at that moment, I did kinda hate the way I felt," Kurt explained. "I actually feel pretty good now."

David smiled and nodded. "Feel like breakfast?"

"I was thinking I'd just go back home for breakfast, I mean, look at me, I'm all sweaty."

"C'mon, you could dry yourself off and we could go to a diner or something. It's not even eight o'clock. Anyone who is out and awake isn't going to care how dressed-up you are."

Kurt smirked. "You are such a terrible influence on me, David Karofsky. Okay, where are we going?"

There was a diner housed in an old train car located close to the park. David's family had eaten there several times in the past, and it was conveniently located. The two drove the short distance from the park to the diner.

The menu listed typical breakfast items while a chalkboard on the wall listed breakfast specials specific to that day. There were a few other tables occupied, but the breakfast crowd hadn't fully arrived yet.

"This is a cute little place," Kurt commented, taking in the quaint atmosphere. "I never knew it was here"

"Yeah, my paremts like it," David remarked. "It's off the beaten path, but the food's pretty good. It'll get crowded in here around nine o'clock. It always does."

"Oh, if you didn't know, it's best to stay away from coffee after you break a hard sweat like that," David suggested to Kurt. "It will work against your body re-hydrating itself. Save the coffee for later in the morning."

Kurt nodded. "Good to know." Kurt smiled while looking around the place, appearing very content, appreciating the new experience. "Do you know what you're having?"

"Probably just an omelette or something. You?"

"I am usually a pancake guy, but I was eyeing up that special on the blackboard over there: French toast with fresh strawberries and whipped cream."

David smiled. "That does sound amazing, but, like pretty rich for breakfast."

The waitress took their orders and the food came to them quickly. As they discussed, David ordered an omelette with bacon, sausage, and hot peppers while Kurt ordered the special French toast which revealed itself as an enormous portion once delivered. David had finished his omelette while Kurt was almost finished with his breakfast, one sizable piece remaining on his plate: a perfect corner of a piece of French toast with a smattering of sliced of strawberries and dollop of whipped cream perched atop.

"Are you going to finish that, Kurt?" David asked.

"No, actually, I saved it for you. I thought you might want to try it; and, believe me, even though it was delicious, I had enough." Kurt made a face indicating that he was full.

David smiled. "Are you sure, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded and pushed the plate in David's direction. "It's yours."

David cut the piece of French toast into bite-sized pieces and commenced eating it. "This _is_ really awesome, Kurt. I don't think I could have eaten the amount that you did, though, but this is a perfect amount of sweet stuff after my omelette."

David's phone alerted an incoming text message. David's face puzzled as he pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. He retrieved the message, and an enormous smile spread across his face.

"Wow, that must be a really good message," Kurt remarked, smirking.

David turned his phone around so Kurt could see the screen.

Dad: _David, you are amazing. You are my hero._ 8:40AM

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The referenced song is "Mother" by John Lennon.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 13,000

**Chapter 29**

 

Kurt smiled to an equal degree: the joy inherent in the text message was undeniable, but watching David's reaction was a singular pleasure in itself. Kurt's face couldn't contain the elation he felt for David, and this shared moment, something as simple as a text message from David's father, was so personal that Kurt felt strangely, warmly honored to be be privy to it. Not that David was ever hesitant to talk to Kurt about personal feelings and matters (far from it, actually, David seemed to trust Kurt with almost everything), but they'd never shared an event while it was actually happening which was so perfectly sublime as this one.

Kurt nearly reached out for David's hand as it was extended to reveal the text message, a gut reaction, but he stopped himself short. He wasn't exactly sure why he stopped himself. He'd held David's hand when David was in the hospital. And then there was the night when, while David reclined sleeping in a chair inches from the couch where Kurt lay, the two briefly held hands. That was why he'd stopped. Something had changed between the time David was in the hospital and the early morning hours of that Thursday-night-into-Friday-morning sixteen days ago; it was the way Kurt felt about David. It was undefined and unrefined. It was an unknown and it confused Kurt; it possibly frightened Kurt slightly.

David didn't notice Kurt stopping himself from reaching for his hand; but he did notice the odd silence and the blank expression on Kurt's face after Kurt had been smiling so widely a moment before. "Kurt, you okay?" David asked.

Kurt shook his head, mind jostled by David's voice. "Uh, yeah, everything's fine. Do you think it'd be safe to get coffee yet?" It was a diversion; Kurt's thoughts weren't anywhere near coffee.

"I was just going to wait until I got home," David replied, "though I'll admit that coffee would be great after something sweet like that French toast."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, sounding far away before collecting his thoughts. "I like this place. We should do this again sometime."

David smirked. "Will you run with me again also?"

Kurt smiled, truly amused. "It was painless enough, and, yeah, it felt pretty good once I was able to breathe normally again. And breaking a sweat feels, oddly, refreshing." Kurt paused for a moment, checking the time. "I should probably start heading home and see what Dad and Carole have planned."

"Yeah, I'm kinda eager to spend some time with my parents today." David smiled, very happy that he could say that he'd be spending time with _both_ parents.

Both boys stood and leisurely walked toward the exit door.

"Are you going out with Blaine today?"

"We didn't really talk about it, but I think he said that he'd be coming with us to the all-ages karaoke tomorrow. Will you be going?"

"Yeah, I'll definitely go if everyone else is going."

"Good. I'll get in touch with people later today and we'll make plans to meet somewhere."

The two walked outside into sunny morning, climbed into their respective vehicles, smiled, and waved before they parted, each driving themselves home.

David returned home and entered his house to find his parents both sitting on the family room couch, Lorraine sitting close against Paul, Paul's arm around Lorraine's shoulder, empty coffee mugs on the coffee table, both appearing very content. David smiled at them, eyes drinking the happy image.

"Hey, Mom, Dad." His voice was quiet, almost shy-sounding.

Both parents smiled as Paul asked, "Back from your run?"

"Yeah. Kurt met me at the park and ran also. We went for breakfast after at the Dining Car Cafe."

"Looks like a nice day outside," Lorraine observed.

"Yeah, it's nice. A little chilly right now, but good running weather." David noticed that both parents' mugs were empty. "Is there any more coffee in the kitchen? I could use some actually."

"I think there's some," Paul said.

"Either of you want a refill while I go in the kitchen and get some for myself?" David offered.

David reached down to collect the empty mugs from the coffee table.

"None for me, David," his mother said, standing up from the couch, "but thank you."

"I'll follow you in the kitchen and get some with you , David," Paul said, also standing.

David walked into the kitchen before Paul, noticing that the carafe was half-full, and dispensed a mug of coffee for himself and refilled his dad's mug. He also noticed an empty wine bottle and two wine glasses next to the sink. He thought about leaving his parents alone the previous night, and the sight of the bottle and glasses summoned a smile to his face. He heard his father enter the kitchen after a few moments and turned to him, smiling.

"Thanks for that text message, Dad," David spoke softly. "You made my morning."

Paul looked at David, straight-on, smiling a subtle, genuine smile, his eyes calm. "David, you made my... my _weekend_ , maybe the rest of my _life_." He reached out and drew David into his arms and hugged him firmly.

"Dad, I'm all clammy from sweating an hour ago."

"As if I care." Paul released David and pulled back, still smiling. "Heads-up. Your mother's going to want to talk to you later today."

"Uh-oh," David appeared apprehensive.

Paul shook his head. "Nothing bad. She's happy to be back." Paul took a drink of his coffee and continued. "I'm so glad to have her back, David. She's the love of my life, and... last night... was like a honeymoon. All over again."

"Yeah, I saw the empty wine bottle." David smiled, pointing with his eyes.

Paul laughed, appearing almost guilty. "Well, I doubt if you and I will be having cold pizza for breakfast again any time soon."

David laughed. "If that's the worst thing that comes out of this, hey, I can live with that, no problem. I'm going to go upstairs and get cleaned up, get all this sweat off of me. I'm supposed to go out tomorrow with some friends, and I need to touch base with them so we can make plans. You and mom planning anything?"

"No, I think I can put everything on hold for the rest of this weekend at least."

 

* * *

 

"Hello, David," Kurt answered David's phone call, his voice typically bright.

"Hi, Kurt. Feeling okay after running this morning?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I told Finn that I was out running, and he thought it was strange. It's good to surprise people now-and-then." Kurt chuckled.

"Yeah," David said with a snicker. "Hey, do you know what's going on for tomorrow?"

"Well, Sean said that he'd be coming with Gretchen and Johnno. Blaine said he's in. Santana and Brittany are going to meet us at the club. We just need a location to meet. Is your place okay? It's central to everyone else, it seems; and we all know how to get to your place."

"Yeah, that should be alright. I'll check with my parents. Do you know what time we'll be meeting?"

"I thought that about four o'clock would be good. It might take a while for everyone to arrive and, accounting for travel time, we'd probably get there at six, and that's when it starts."

"Okay, that sounds good," David said, agreeably. "Um," David hesitated for a moment, "what should I wear?"

There was a silence on Kurt's side for a moment. "I don't think you really need to wear anything special, David. It's not exactly a dressy place or anything, and, I mean, you're just hanging out with your friends. Just wear what you're comfortable wearing. Be yourself."

David smiled. "Okay, just, kinda, not a different crowd, but a different situation."

"It's just going to be a lot of people our age pretending to be older than they are because they're in a bar. You'll be just fine as you are."

"Alright, just checking."

"Hey, David, I hate to cut this short, but Dad and Finn need some help in the garage today, and I was going to go over there for a while."

"Oh, no problem," David responded. "I just wanted to see if there was a plan for tomorrow. I'll talk to you later, Kurt."

"Okay, Goodbye, David."

"Later, Kurt."

David ended the call and sat at his desk, booting his laptop when he heard a knock at his bedroom door."

"Come in."

David's mother opened the door and walked into his bedroom.

"Hey, Mom," David began. "Some friends and I are going out tomorrow night. I wanted to know if it was okay with you and Dad if we all met here before we go out. It will be around four o'clock.

Lorraine smiled subtly as she took a seat on the trunk at the foot of David's bed. "Yes, that should be fine, David. Will I get to meet your friends?"

"Sure. If you want to, absolutely." David smiled at his mother's interest. David stood and walked closer to her, taking a seat next to her on the trunk. "Dad said that you wanted to talk to me."

Lorraine looked downward, collecting her thoughts. "David, I'm sorry for the way I reacted and the way I've been for the past couple of months."

"Mom, it's okay. It was something you had to deal with that you never considered: It takes time and adjustment. I know, believe me. It took me a couple of years to overcome the same problems within myself. I can't expect things to be perfect overnight, if they're even perfect now; but you're back, and I'm so happy for that."

Lorraine's head was facing low, but her eyes addressed David's. "I let too many insignificant things dominate my feelings, and I said so many things that I shouldn't have said."

David shook his head. "Mom, I get how that, like, conflict can cause people to say and do some things that they wouldn't. Lapses in logic, yeah, that was me for a long time. I mean, you being back here is going to probably affect the way you relate to your dad and your siblings: I don't consider that insignificant at all."

Lorraine looked up at David directly, shaking her head. "No, David, I can see it. You _are_ healthier now that you were before. You were right, what you said last night, and I can see it in the way you speak and act and carry yourself: _everything_. This is right for you. If my father and the rest of my family can't handle that, well, I need to come to the understanding that _you_ and _your father_ and _me_ are the family that matters here." Lorraine began to cry. "You needed my support and I let you down."

"Don't cry, Mom. I couldn't have expected anything to be immediate. Yeah, I wish I would have had your support before, sure, but you're here now." David reached his arm around his mother's shoulder and, with his other hand, took both of her hands into his. "If there is any doubt in your mind, any part of you that still finds me disappointing, I promise, I will do everything to negate that, to make you and Dad proud of me."

Lorraine shook her head and sniffed, pulling herself closer to David. "I _am_ proud of you, David. What you did last night was brave, and what you said was exactly what I needed to hear to grasp everything. I missed you and your father so much, but there was so much that I didn't understand. You cleared all of that up last night." Lorraine reached around David's neck, gently pulling his head down, and kissed his forehead.

David smiled, eyes closed, nodding. "I love you, Mom. Thank you for coming back."

"I love you, David."

 

* * *

 

**Sunday, April 1**

"C'mon in, Blaine." David held the door open for Blaine as he entered.

"Hi, Dave," Blaine greeted, entering David's house and appearing less jovial than usual. David stood at the door, looking around outside for a moment, slightly confused, finally turning back to Blaine.

"We can wait for the others downstairs." David led Blaine downstairs to the gameroom. Blaine took a seat on the couch, while David sat on the edge of one of the chairs facing it.

"I know I'm a little early," Blaine said, "I didn't know how long it would take to get here from my place."

David looked around, an expression of slight confusion. "So, where's Kurt?" he asked innocuously.

"How should I know?" Blaine nearly snapped, expression more serious. "I'm not his keeper."

"I thought you'd be arriving together," David spoke, even more confused by Blaine's attitudinal response. "You're his _boyfriend_."

Blaine shot an expression of subtle surprise, but his attitude remained. "Kurt didn't tell you?"

David shook his head, appearing almost sad. "I don't think so, Blaine. Tell me what?"

"We're taking some," Blaine's eyes widened melodramatically, "time off."

David, incredulous, quietly surprised, " _Why?_ "

"Ah, we kinda got into this back-and-forth about our relationship becoming 'routine', and our voices kept getting louder, and the next thing I knew, we were taking some 'time off' of being 'boyfriends'."

David's expression became sad. "That kinda bums me out, Blaine. I mean, I consider the both of you to be my friends, and I think the two of you are great together."

"You really didn't know, did you? Why didn't he tell you, I wonder?"

David shook his head and faced downward. "He probably didn't want me getting any crazy ideas like I did for Valentine's Day."

Blaine's expression became slightly more intense. "What about Valentine's Day?"

David read the blank expression on Blaine’s face and exhaled. "I guess Kurt didn't tell _you_ about _that_. I gave him some cards and gifts and asked him out. I honestly didn't know you two were together at the time."

"Now _why_ ," Blaine voiced, looking thoughtful, "wouldn't Kurt tell me about _that_ , I wonder."

"He probably didn't tell you about it because it didn't matter. You and him were solid. Knowing about that would have just made me seem pathetic and possibly unnecessarily complicated things with the two of you. It really wasn't important."

Blaine appeared genuinely puzzled.

"Listen, Blaine, Kurt told me how it was. I told him how I thought I felt, I laid it all out in front of him; but he said he was with you, and he and I are friends. He was totally right. He was rational and logical and he let me down as easily as he could."

Blaine's expression softened, realizing that it would have coincided closely with David's suicide attempt. "Still, it couldn't have been easy, right?"

David laughed a futile chuckle. "It was terrible. I kept thinking about that Linkin Park song, that one about trying so hard and coming so far and it still didn't matter. That's how I felt at the time." David shook his head. "The thing is, Kurt was right, and we're friends. Right now, I'm happy to be able to call him an incredible friend, so, we're good."

The two sat in silence for a moment while David looked at Blaine. "Different look for you tonight?"

Blaine's expression softened. "Yeah, I thought I'd go easy on the gel and let some of the natural curl of my hair show, look a little looser for a change." His attire was less proper also: jeans, a white long-sleeved button-down shirt worn untucked, and a plain black sweater-vest. "Weather's pretty mild, so I didn't need to layer much."

David smiled. 'You look good, Blaine."

Blaine nodded a polite smile, "Thank you."

The doorbell rang and David stood. "Someone else is here. I'll go get the door."

As David moved toward the stairs, he heard movement and called out, "I got it!" as he disappeared up the stairs. He returned a moment later with Gretchen, Johnno, Sean, and Randy.

"Guys and girl, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is Johnno, Gretchen, and Randy; and you've already met Sean." They all took turns shaking hands with Blaine.

Gretchen was dressed in a black leather vest worn over a long-sleeved pink dress shirt and tight black jeans, her black hair in a child-like pigtail style making her resemble a living anime character. Sean looked markedly different than usual: his shoulder-length red hair, usually worn in a ponytail, was loose; this coupled with the white, crinkled button-down shirt and relaxed jeans made him resemble a low-key underground rocker of-sorts. He was also smiling more than usual, looser, appearing more extroverted.

As they were greeting and talking among each other, the doorbell rang again. "That must be Kurt," David said as he left again to answer the door.

Kurt, smiling, came down the stairs followed by David. Kurt began to greet everyone in the gameroom.

Kurt and David remained standing while everyone else was seated. Sean spoke, "This is everyone, right?"

David, appearing somewhat serious nodded, "Yeah, Sean, everyone's here.."

"Okay, so, everyone else here already knows what I want to say to Kurt and Blaine right now," Sean began, fairly quietly as everyone in attendance silenced. "Guys, I came out to my parents earlier this week. Everything's okay with them and all of my friends, and, the two of you being my friends also, I thought you should know as well." Kurt and Blaine smiled at Sean, some excitement in their expression. "I didn't think the two of you would have a problem with me being gay." Sean spoke with a friendly sarcasm in his voice. "Dave was the first to know. He was a big help to me."

Kurt looked over at David, giving him a wide, proud smile; David smiled back, but his appeared affected and preoccupied.

After a few moments, David spoke again. "My parents wanted to meet all of you, so I'll go get them, and then we can be on our way."

Kurt walked over to Sean to congratulate him while Blaine did so from his seated posture.

David returned to the gameroom with Paul and Lorraine. "Hey, everyone, These are my parents. Mom, Dad, these are, starting over here, Sean, Gretchen, Johnno, Randy, Blaine, and Kurt." David gestured to each upon saying their name; they all waved, smiled, and nodded informally in return. Kurt, who was standing, walked over to David's mom and shook her hand, introducing himself more directly.

After a few moments of introduction, Paul, smiling, spoke over the several voices. "Hey, kids, we know that you want to go out, so we don't want to hold you back. Have a good time tonight, and stay out of trouble."

The crowd of teenagers waved, laughed, smiled, and nodded assurances to Paul and Lorraine as they left the room waving back.

"Okay, so," David voiced somewhat louder over the subsiding noise, "I guess we can leave any time?"

The kids all stood as David led them to the front door while he called out to his parents. "See you later. I don't think we'll be out past ten, but I'll call if we are, okay?"

"There's no point in taking all of our cars," Kurt mentioned as the crowd exited the house into David's driveway. "Two cars should be fine. I can drive, no problem."

"I was gonna drive also," Johnno answered, "I drove Sean, Randy, and Gretchen, so I thought I'd just drive there too."

Johnno let himself into his car with Gretchen taking the front-passenger seat; Randy and Sean opened the rear doors and prepared to take opposite sides of the rear seat.

David and Kurt were walking over to Kurt's Navigator with Blaine a few steps behind, when Blaine suddenly turned and darted across the driveway to the other car. "I'm ridin' with them." He jumped into the car before Randy could taking the center position on the rear seat. Randy, appearing confused, sat beside him and closed the door.

David shot an expression of confusion over to Kurt who shrugged in response, shaking his head slightly. Kurt and David climbed into the front seat of the Navigator and Kurt began to work the car out of the driveway.

"What was that all about?" David asked. "The thing with Blaine? I mean, he squeezed himself into the backseat of a car with two other people while there's a ton of room here."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he put the car in drive. "I really don't know. Blaine's been doing some strange things lately."

The two sat silent for a moment as their travelling speed increased, Kurt having hit a more open span of road.

"You look good tonight, Kurt," David offered, breaking the silence, still preoccupied and slightly nervous.

Kurt smiled warmly and looked over at David. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt with a black, long-sleeved casual button-down shirt, left unbuttoned, over it, and a classic-looking pair of jeans which seemed to hug his shape in all the right places without appearing tight. His hair was up slightly more than usual of late, but it wasn't extreme. "Thank you, David. Following my dad's advice, I thought I'd channel the blue-collar-rock look. With a twist. You look good."

David smiled meekly. "Nothing special about the way I'm dressed." David was wearing a blue-and-white plaid short-sleeved button-down over a white T-shirt and jeans.

"No, but it's you, and you look comfortable that way, and you look good when you're comfortable. Got your hair cut, I see?"

"Yeah, the shagginess was getting to me when I was all sweaty from the morning run." David smiled, but his smile faded shortly. "Blaine told me that the two of you are, like, on-hold or something. I'm a little bummed that you didn't tell me." Kurt's expression became slightly serious as David continued, almost abruptly. "It's not like I was going to get ideas about you and me or something. I'm good with us being friends, Kurt. Really good." There was a silence for a moment before David continued. "Y'know, we talk a lot, you and me. You've been a great listener. I don't have a problem telling you just about anything. You help me with the bad stuff even if you don't offer anything: it's just good that you listen. And when something good happens, like with my mom the other night, you're, like, the first person I wanted to talk with about it. I guess what I want to say is that I want you to see me as the same kind of friend that you are to me. If something bad happens, I want you to be able to feel that you can tell me. Not that I'd have much to offer, especially on something like that, but... "

Kurt interjected. "It's not really that, David. I guess I didn't tell you because I wasn't really that bothered by what happened with Blaine and me. It was three weeks ago today. That Saturday, Blaine and I went out and had a boring day. On top of the boredom, there were a few other things which bothered me. We met the next day for coffee, and got into some kind of argument. That was one of those days when I you and I had one of those tense phone conversations, and I was concerned about you. When I said that to Blaine, he became all defensive or something. Next thing I knew, he was saying that we should take some time off. He was bluffing, but I called him on it, and I don't regret it."

David's expression became more serious, almost grave. "You make it sound like it was because of me."

"No, David. Blaine was being childish, and I called him on it. He's done this before, and every time he does, I crawl back to him. I wasn't about to do that this time." Kurt paused for a moment. "And, yes, I should have told you about Blaine and me; but the truth is, I really wasn't that bothered about it at the time. It felt like a wise thing to do; and, since then, given the way Blaine's been acting, I'm further convinced that my reaction was justified." Kurt was silent for a moment. "I am sorry if it bothered you, David."

David shook his head quickly and summoned a smile. "Nah, I'm okay. I did bother me when he told me. Now that you've explained it, I'm fine."

There was a span of silence while Kurt drove before Kurt spoke again. "You really know how to keep a secret, David."

David's face puzzled. "What?"

"About Sean. How long have you known?"

David shook his head for a moment. "He told me the first time he visited me after I got out of the hospital. I didn't tell anyone."

"Did he just flat-out tell you?"

David shook his head again. "No, we were sort-of in a back-and-forth about something, it was really kinda petty, and he kinda told me without telling me in so many words. I told him that it wouldn't go beyond that room."

Kurt looked over at David, nodding, an expression of respect upon his face.

David explained. "Someone once extended the same courtesy to me, and, even though it might have been to their advantage to tell certain people, they never did. I was just following another person's wise example."

Kurt smiled at David, and the smile was returned as David's eyes dropped away from Kurt's face toward the road ahead.

Parking was scarce around the club itself (it had a ridiculously small parking lot), but both cars found parking along the street less than a block away. As they emerged from their cars and collected themselves together, Blaine walked up to David.

"Hey, Dave, Randy tells me that you have a fake ID," Blaine addressed David, smiling. "Do you have it on you?"

David eyed Blaine suspiciously. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that I do. Why?"

"Cool! We can have a couple of beers together," Blaine said, still smiling while Randy looked at David over Blaine's shoulder, smiling and nodding, knowingly.

David was not amused, but he decided to roll with it. Kurt, overhearing the exchange, did a facepalm and shook his head in silent protest.

Club Neon was a presentable place on the inside: clean-looking, nicely appointed, and, true to the name, decorated with neon signs everywhere. The bar was elevated, and there was a man at the entry ramp checking IDs. A stage was located at the side opposite the bar area.

The club was crowded on the inside, but Kurt, Gretchen, Sean, and Johnno managed to get a table close to the front. Santana and Brittany were already at the club and met them at the there.

"What's going on, girl and guys?" Santana said sassily to Gretchen and her friends.

"Not much, girls," Gretchen addressed the pair with equal sass. "Did you get a book? Did you pick songs yet?"

"I know what I'm gonna sing, but I haven't submitted my request yet," Santana answered back, voice loud, shouting over the juke box. "Karaoke begins in about a half-hour. There're books at every table. We should get our requests in soon or we'll be here all night."

Gretchen, Santana, and Sean huddled around one of the large binders of song selections while Brittany stood aside.

"Are you singing tonight, Brittany?" Kurt asked.

"No, I'm just going to hang out and dance if anyone sings anything good," Brittany replied, vacant expression on her face. Brittany was wearing a leather motorcycle jacket with a lacy white top and jeans which were blown-out on the left knee. She noticed Kurt registering her appearance and said, "I thought I'd do the sexy rock-video look tonight. Santana likes it, and it goes well with what she's doing."

Kurt nodded then looked over at Santana. She was dressed in a shiny tight black top which zippered up in the front. She wore tight black pants and 50s-style shoes with a fair amount of lift. Her hair was in a rockabilly-updo. Kurt smiled and nodded back at Brittany. "Good call."

Brittany smiled. "Thanks. I think she took your dad's advice."

Kurt laughed. "I did too," he said as he held up his hands, modelling his low-key attire.

David, Blaine, and Randy, meanwhile, had shown their IDs to the person at the entry to the partitioned bar area and seated themselves. Blaine was busy rifling through the song book between chugs from his bottle. "You gonna sing, Dave?" He directed in David's direction.

David, holding his beer bottle closely as if it were a security blanket replied with a laugh. "Nah, I don't think so. Nobody would want to hear that."

Randy chucked at David's response as Blaine continued searching the thick binder of song selections.

"What are you going to sing, Blaine?" David asked, looking down at the pages which resembled a telephone directory. "Kurt tells me you're awesome."

Blaine smiled smugly. "I'm not sure yet, but I'll know it when I find it."

"Well, when I finish this," David regarded the bottle in his hand, "I'm going to go join them." He nodded in the direction of the table of their friends.

"Aw, Dave," Blaine whined, an affected expression of disappointment on his face. "I thought we'd have a few together."

"I'll maybe have another one with you and Randy, but I came so I could hang out with all of my friends," David replied. "Really, I think you should do the same." David's face was honest and reasonable.

Sean, Santana, and Gretchen had all made their selections and handed in their requests. Kurt continued to flip through the book after they'd finished with it.

"Is Johnno going to sing?" Santana asked of Gretchen.

"Oh, I think Johnno is a little too shy for that," Gretchen responded. Instinctively, Johnno wrapped his arms around Gretchen, bent down and hid his head behind her, smiling shyly.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You two are so cute, there should be some kinda law against it."

Gretchen and Johnno both giggled to each other in response.

David joined the group of them, approaching Kurt.

"Had enough?" Kurt asked David referring to the bar.

"Yeah, I did not plan on that," David's expression was affected seriousness.

Kurt shook his head. "Blaine should not be drinking."

"Uh-oh."

"I've seen him drunk," Kurt explained. "It's never good."

"Uh, it was his idea," David said, making an excuse for himself. "I just had a beer. He wanted me to have more, but that's not why I came." David eyed the closed binder on the table. "Did you all put in your requests?"

"Yes, I just did," Kurt answered. "The rest of them put in their requests just before I did."

Sean approached Kurt and David. "What's up with Blaine tonight?" Sean asked. "He was all, like, strange on the way here. Not like I remember him from the other time I met him."

"He did seem kinda preoccupied or something when he showed up at my place earlier," David offered.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's been unpredictable in all the wrong ways lately, and my patience for his hang-ups is wearing thin."

David nodded with concern as the lights in the club dimmed.

The girl who had been walking throughout the club collecting the requests made some announcements and proceeded to begin the night by singing Joan Jett's "I Love Rock 'n' Roll", psyching the people in the crowd to take the stage. Santana and Brittany approached David and Kurt.

"Looking good tonight, ladies," David offered with enthusiasm. "Santana, you look awesome."

She returned his expression, head tilted, smiling, and confident, accepting the compliment. "Thanks, Dave."

Kurt nodded in agreement. "You and Brittany both look great."

"Thanks," Santana smiled. "You look like James Dean."

Kurt smiled widely and David smirked: he did indeed appreciate the look Kurt was channelling.

The first of the participants was called to the stage, a young man appearing to be about sixteen years old announced that he was dedicating his song to his girlfriend and proceeded to butcher Bruno Mars' "Grenade". Gretchen affected an appearance of nausea causing David to laugh in response.

"I know how you hate this song," David said to her, bending to her ear-level.

"It's okay," Gretchen spoke as Johnno joined the two of them. "I expected to hear this song tonight, and I'm glad this guy who is singing it sucks. It's totally fitting."

Johnno and David both laughed. The song was finished soon enough as another name was called and a girl took the stage, proceeding to sing an adequate version of "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson.

"She's not bad," David offered to Kurt, Gretchen, and Johnno who were all standing nearby.

"She could have picked a livelier song," Gretchen offered.

"She could have a better voice," Kurt seconded, uncharacteristically critical.

Sean's name was called next, and he approached the microphone with seemingly no apprehension. On the stage, with his hair loose, he looked the part of a young rocker. The song began, and the place seemed to come alive. It was a song everyone knew, it rocked, and when he began singing, he thoroughly sounded and looked right.

_Run and tell all of the angels_  
 _This could take all night_  
 _Think I need a devil to help me get things right_  
 _Hook me up a new revolution_  
 _'cause this one is a lie  
_ _We sat around laughing and watched the last one die_

Sean's voice was rough, but carried the melody. "Wow!" Kurt shot an expression of surprise at Gretchen and David. "He's perfect for this song!"

David smiled and nodded back at Kurt; Gretchen nodded and moved her hips in time with the song as Johnno pulled her in close from behind, his arms around her waist.

_I'm looking to the sky to save me_  
 _Looking for a sign of life_  
 _Looking for a somethin' to help me burn out bright_  
 _I'm looking for a complication_  
 _Looking 'cause I'm tired of lying  
_ _Make my way back home where I learn to fly high_

David always liked this song, but the lyrics were striking him strongly at this time; and he was sure that this song meant something to Sean at this point also. David found himself silently mouthing the words to the song's bridge.

_Fly along with me I can't quite make it alone  
_ _Try to make this life my own_

David felt a tug at his side and looked down to realize that Gretchen had one arm around him and the other around Johnno, pulling them in toward her. David laughed and looked over at Johnno who was addressing him with a nod and a smile.

David turned his head around to see that the rest of the club had been won over; everyone was bouncing to the beat of the song. _Sean is totally kicking ass_ , he thought. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, held it high over his head while lighting the screen and moving it back-and-forth to the beat. A minute later, the rest of the club was alight with cell phones swaying in time.

The song ended and Sean found himself being high-fived and offered handshakes from strangers as he made his way back to his friends.

"That was _fantastic_!" Kurt complimented on Sean's return, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Thanks!" Sean offered in return as Gretchen hugged him and Johnno and David both grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

The next person called to the stage seemed anticlimactic after Sean, a teenage girl interpreting a Beyonce ballad proficiently: no one seemed to be paying much attention to her, though.

"You kicked ass," David said to Sean as the others had drifted back to their places at the table. "Good song. I never would have expected that from the dude I met on the first day of school in Calc class."

Sean laughed and blushed. "I had a great week. I feel, like, liberated or something."

"I can see it," David observed. "You... you seem it." David was quiet for a moment. "Dude, it suits you."

Sean reached out and hugged David tightly. "Thanks, Dave. That's all, just thanks."

Kurt observed the two from a distance as Santana's name was called to the stage.

The song began with a thumping upright bass and uptempo thunking drums, adding a twangy guitar. Santana's voice began cool and tough at first.

Gretchen recognized the song immediately and began to squeal and bounce in Johnno's arms. Brittany and Kurt were both moving in time with the rockabilly rhythm: Brittany affecting a cool posture while Kurt was grinning, almost giddy.

_Like a rumble in the ground_  
 _Crawls up from the depths_  
 _With a deep-down sound_  
 _Johnny got a boom boom_  
 _Johnny got a bam  
_ _He got a..._

By this time, Brittany and Kurt were dancing next to each other. David squeezed his way through the people between to lean down to Kurt's ear. "She's great!" he said.

Kurt nodded in agreement as Brittany began to dance more wildly, swinging her hips into Kurt, much to David's amusment.

Santana's voice reached a fevered pitch on the second verse, finally erupting to a full, throaty growl accented by a primal scream or two.

_Watch that man_  
 _See what's in his hands_  
 _Got no joy_  
 _He's a big, bad boy_  
 _He's gonna freak you out_  
 _You're gonna shriek out loud_  
 _He's got you in his hands_  
 _He's gonna make you wanna  
_ _Make you wanna, oh_

_Johnny got a boom boom  
_ _Johnny got a bam_

With that chorus, Brittany bumped her butt into Kurt's hip, knocking him backward toward David. David instinctively caught Kurt by the shoulders, preventing him from falling. Kurt looked up to David, and both began laughing as Brittany continued to dance, unaware.

The song ended and Santana was greeted to wild applause from the crowd. Gretchen was elated. She took Santana's hands as she returned to their table. "I love that song!"

"Yeah, I kinda did it for you and Johnno," she replied. "And Britt loves it when I do the tough-girl thing."

Kurt made his way over to Santana as David cell phone buzzed an incoming text.

Sean: _Hey, I know I missed getting a good pic of you and Kurt at the party last week. I think this will make up for my oversight._ 7:23PM

The image came in on David's phone: David bracing Kurt by his shoulders, Kurt smiling happily and David caught in mid-laugh, mouth wide open and smiling. David laughed and looked over to Sean, nodding appreciative, wordless thanks. Sean gave David a smug grin in return which seemed to say, _yeah, I rock_.

David made his way back over to Gretchen and Johnno. "Santana was great."

"Yeah," Gretchen replied. "Love that song. Now we are going to sit through more crap until one of us gets called to sing."

Kurt and Brittany joined the huddle at the table while David eyed the bar area. "Blaine and Randy have been up there the whole time," David observed and directed toward Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes and said with some disgust, "There's nothing good about that."

Some young guy sang James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" to his swooning girlfriend. Gretchen said to Johnno, "If you ever sing this to me, I will kill you slowly." David and Kurt laughed in unison. The following song was Extreme's "More Than Words" in a similar scenario.

"You're dad was right," David muttered to Kurt. "These love ballads are real buzz-killers."

Kurt chuckled and nodded. "My dad knows the score."

Gretchen was called to the stage next, dressed in shiny, tight black and satiny pink: _black licorice and Canada mints_ , David thought to himself. The song was all distorted, arpeggiated guitars and squealing feedback in a bluesy six-eight time signature: a love ballad with balls.

_I don't know why you're mean to me_  
 _When I call on the telephone_  
 _And I don't know what you mean to me_  
 _But I want to turn you on, turn you up, figure you out  
_ _I want to take you on_

These words hit Kurt like a hammer. He looked over at David who stood rapt, watching Gretchen. She was a rock 'n' roll, bohemian chanteuse as she wailed, capturing everyone in the club.

_I'm going to make whatever it takes,  
_ _Ring you up, call you down, sign your name, secret love,  
_ _Make it rhyme, take you in, and make you min_ e

The song was dramatic, reaching a climax before the third verse.

_I tripped and fell, Did I fall?  
_ _What I want to feel, I want to feel it now_

_You know with love come strange currencies_  
 _And this is my appeal:_  
 _I need a chance a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance,_  
 _A word, a signal, a nod, a little breath,  
_ _Just to fool myself, catch myself, make it real_

_These words, 'you will be mine'  
_ _These words, 'you will be mine', all the time_

David was similarly struck hard, sobered by the words. As the song ended and the crowd applauded enthusiastically, Kurt approached David.

"She was great." There was honesty but no mirth in his voice.

"Yeah," David replied, similarly stoic, "She was, she is."

The two of them faced forward, almost motionless, as they watched Gretchen exit the stage and walk into Johnno's arms; Sean was nearby, telling her how she owned the place while Santana and Brittany approached expressing a similarly enthusiastic reaction. When the reaction subsided, David and Kurt made their way over to Gretchen at the same time though physically distanced from each other, converging at Gretchen's location.

Kurt smiled genuinely if reserved. "That was great, Gretchen. A really good song for you."

"Awww, thanks, Kurt!" She hugged him and kissed his cheek causing him to smile wider and laugh, disarmed.

David relaxed at this. "Definitely incredible, Gretchen."

"Get down here, Dave," Gretchen reached her arms up to him, "you're getting a smooch too!"

He lowered himself as she hugged him tightly and kissed him as well. Kurt grinned and clapped in response.

There was what appeared to be a college sophomore on the stage at the time, murdering a Josh Groban song. As David stood up from Gretchen's embrace, Kurt caught Gretchen's eye. She gestured toward the stage from over her shoulder. "Now, _that_ is so bad, it's almost entertaining."

Kurt laughed while David shook his head and verbalized, "Probably better than I could do."

"What's going on, people?" Blaine nearly yelled, stumbling toward the table of his friends, Randy behind him.

"You finally decided to come out from the bar area?" Kurt eyed Blaine accusingly.

"What? I just had a couple of beers," Blaine deflected Kurt's visual accusation.

Kurt rolled his eyes as David, concerned said, "You two are okay, right?"

Both Blaine and Randy nodded. "Yeah, just having a good time, that's all," Randy replied back to David, speech slightly slurred.

David shook his head as Blaine yelled at the rest of the table, inappropriately loudly, "Hey, all of you sounded great." Kurt facepalmed.

After the Josh Groban song ended, Blaine and Randy were both called to the stage. David's face registered surprise as Kurt looked up from his palm. "They're doing a _duet_?" Kurt voiced aloud.

The song began, electronic noise and a simple piano melody. Kurt knew this song, and he liked it somewhat. He'd heard Finn listen to it occasionally, and he'd seen the video (he always thought the singer was cute but a little too rough-looking for his taste, personally).

There were two vocal parts to this song, which explained the presence of both Randy and Blaine: one rapping vocal which Randy took, and a more melodic vocal part which Blaine sang.

_It starts with one_  
 _One thing I don't know why_  
 _It doesn't even matter how hard you try_  
 _Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme_  
 _To explain in due time  
_ _All I know_

Though Randy's voice was thin and lacked the conviction to bring the spoken/rap part to life, Blaine sounded perfect, Kurt thought.

_I tried so hard_  
 _And got so far_  
 _But in the end_  
 _It doesn't even matter_  
 _I had to fall_  
 _To lose it all_  
 _But in the end  
_ _It doesn't even matter_

Kurt found himself nodding to the beat. He looked over at David, about to tell him that he thought Blaine sounded great, to see that David's head was down, facing away from the stage, a troubled expression, arms folded over his chest. _This song meant something to David, and Blaine knew it_ , Kurt thought. "David, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm cool." David did not sound convincing as he mumbled his response.

"Really, David, you were laughing and smiling three minutes ago, and now you're obviously not."

David looked at Kurt, sincerely thankful of his intuitive observation, nodding. "We can talk about it later. Too loud in here right now."

Kurt nodded. "Okay. Later tonight, after we leave."

David nodded and smiled in return.

Gretchen, Johnno, and Sean noticed Kurt talking to David and also sensed something was amiss as the song ended. The crowd applauded and Blaine and Randy returned to the others. Before they reached David and Kurt, Blaine and Randy were greeted by the stoic faces of Johnno, Gretchen, and Sean.

"Did something uncool just happen?" Gretchen posed to Blaine and Randy. Randy's expression betrayed cluelessness as Blaine laughed aloud.

"What?" Blaine said. "Didn't you like the song we did?"

Gretchen's eyes shot daggers at Blaine. Johnno gave Randy a serious expression. Kurt was on his way over to verbally rip into Blaine, although he wasn't exactly sure why, when his name was called to sing.

Kurt took the stage, postured and suddenly transformed by the moment. David looked over to Blaine, shaking his head slowly as if disappointed in him. Blaine's smile faded slightly.

_Everybody here_  
 _Comes from somewhere_  
 _That they would just as soon forget  
_ _And disguise_

Kurt's voice rang out as if a declaration over the sound of distorted guitars and a solid rhythm section: a straightforward rock song.

_If you call out safe then I'll stop right away_  
 _If the premise buckles and the room starts to shake,_  
 _The details swap and the story's the same_  
 _You don't have to explain,_  
 _You don't have to explain_  
 _Humiliation  
_ _Of your teenage station_

_And you realize your fantasies are_  
 _Dressed up in travesties  
_ _Enjoy yourself no regrets_

The song was catchy, infectious; and Kurt's voice, strong and sung in his lower register, aimed at some positive-but-vague truth. There was something evocative in his presence and his delivery. The crowd was not physically reacting so much as they were silently rapt.

_Now there's nothing dark and there's nothing weird,_  
 _Don't be afraid, I will hold you near,_  
 _From the séance where you first betrayed_  
 _An open heart on a darkened stage._  
 _A celebration,  
_ _Of your teenage station._

_It's an experience;_  
 _Sweet, delirious,  
_ _Supernatural, superserious_

David's eyes and ears drank in the sight and the sound. The song ended to loud applause as Kurt, ever the professional, smiled and lowered himself from the stage. Sean and Gretchen both told him he was great while Johnno nodded agreement.

"Well," Kurt said to Gretchen, "had I known you were doing an REM song, I'd have picked something else because you were better."

"Apples and oranges," Sean interjected. "Can't compare her chanteuse to your post-punk."

Kurt smiled without a trace of sarcasm. "Thanks, Sean, for putting that into perspective for me."

Kurt slowly made his way over to David while a teenage girl was called to the stage and began singing "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" in an interpretation which left something to be desired.

"You did that song for me, Kurt," David said just loud enough to be heard, a serene expression on his face.

"Well, it could have actually applied to any one of us," Kurt explained, "but, yes, when I was looking for a song to sing tonight, you came to mind, and, yes, that song seemed to fit." David smirked causing Kurt to explain further. "I was online searching for songs which put a positive spin on teen angst. That was one I thought that I could actually sing credibly." David's smile widened as Kurt changed the subject to the present music. "Okay, I love the song this girl is singing, but this is neither the time, the place, nor a singer who can do any kind of justice to it. I think Blaine and Randy are heading back to the bar. We should probably leave before the present situation becomes aggravated."

Kurt moved over to Johnno quickly. "Hey, stop Randy before he gets to the bar. I'm gonna grab Blaine. I think it's probably a good time to make an exit before they drink any more." Johnno nodded and stopped Randy, nearly causing him to stumble, while Kurt grabbed Blaine by his shoulder. "I think we're out of here, Blaine."

Blaine protested mildly as Santana and Brittany approached to two. "Sounding good up there, Kurt," Santana offered while Brittany nodded.

"I didn't know your voice went that low," Brittany offered.

"Um, it wasn't really very low, but thank you," Kurt smiled at both of them. "We're leaving right now, actually."

"We were going to call it a night too," Santana replied.

"Yeah, this was a fun time," Brittany remarked and Santana nodded assent. "We could do this again."

"See you in school tomorrow, girls," Kurt said, nodding agreement.

With that, Santana and Brittany said parting words to the rest of the group as all of them walked in the direction of the exit doors. Once outside, they began walking toward their cars.

"It's still early," David noted. "Eight-thirty. Did you want to go out and get something to eat or something?"

Johnno replied, "I'd really like to, but I'm kinda worn out, and Randy's pretty drunk." He kept a hand on Randy's shoulder to steady him.

"I'm not... I'm not drunk," Randy protested.

"Yes you are," Johnno corrected as Kurt stared daggers at Blaine. "If you are going out, that's cool; but I'm done for the night, and I gotta get drunk boy here home," Johnno furthered.

"Well," Kurt offered, "I can get Sean and Gretchen home if they want to stay out and stop somewhere for food."

This was agreeable to all parties. Sean, David, Blaine, and Kurt seated themselves in Kurt's Navigator while Gretchen walked with Johnno and Randy to Johnno's car and kissed Johnno goodnight. "We shouldn't be out too late. I'll call when I get home." With that Gretchen was jumping into the back seat of the Navigator, and both cars departed.

"That was a good time," Blaine commented as Kurt drove, the other occupants of the car silent. "Everyone sounded good. It was cool to hear everyone sing tonight."

"You were up in the bar the whole time," Gretchen sassed. "Did you even _hear_ any of us?"

Blaine didn't answer Gretchen, instead asking, "Where are we going?"

"I think Breadstix closes early on Sunday night," David offered. "There's the family restaurant near McKinley and the burger joint not far from Thruston."

"The family restaurant," Gretchen suggested, conscious of David running into people from Thurston at the fast-food burger restaurant.

The restaurant was open all night, and it was fairly empty when they arrived. The five of them were led by a hostess to a large booth. Kurt and Sean both seated themselves at the innermost areas of the seats on opposite sides of the table. Blaine jumped into the seat next to Kurt while Gretchen sat next to Sean and David sat on the outermost area next to Gretchen.

"I Think I'm just going to get some dessert or something," Kurt declared while scanning the menu.

"Ooh, dessert sounds like an incredible idea," Gretchen brightened. "Good call, Kurt."

David looked to his side, smirking at Gretchen. "You look like a slice of strawberry pie, anime-girl."

Gretchen smiled back at David's comment.

"Ha!" Blaine almost yelled while Kurt's expression betrayed visible disturbance. "She _does_ look like an anime character!"

Sean shook his head, incredulous; Gretchen stared daggers across the table at Blaine. David tried to ignore Blaine. Kurt spoke, somewhat quietly but determined. "Blaine, can you keep your volume down? You've obviously had a few, and it's obviously a wise thing that we stopped you from going back for more."

Blaine laughed, his face a lopsided grin. "You think I'm drunk?"

"Uh, dude," Sean began, "how many did you have?"

Blaine shrugged, still smiling. "Can't remember. Lost count."

"Randy was nearly stumbling," Sean added. "If you had as many as he did, you're probably trashed."

Kurt rolled his eyes in disgust as Blaine's smile faded. "Wow. Feels like I'm out with my parents."

David was silent, arms folded across his chest, eyes fixed into the empty space on the table before them.

Their food arrived and they ate casually. Gretchen had a slice of strawberry pie, possibly by David's suggestion; Kurt ordered a slice of coconut cream pie which revealed itself upon arrival to be enormous and upon eating to be excellent. Sean ordered a root beer float, Blaine chose an enormous order of cheese-covered fries, and David ate a double cheeseburger as per his typical late-evening habit.

Blaine messily devoured his fries using his hands, caveman-style. Gretchen smirked at this commenting quietly to David, "Reminds me of what you said once about 'Darwin in reverse'." David's expression was indifferent as he silently noted Blaine's actions.

Blaine looked up from his plate, suddenly self-conscious. "Darwin? We're getting pretty weighty here, aren't we?"

Kurt eyed the fries with some level of disdain. "That cheese looks like yellow slop that comes out of a can."

Before Blaine could swallow the mouthful of fries he'd just put in his mouth, David spoke. "It's normal that the body craves greasy, fatty foods when alcohol is ingested, though it's better to eat them _before_ drinking."

Blaine swallowed and addressed David with a loud, confrontational tone. "Well, Professor Dave's gonna educate us now, I guess."

David's mouth dropped open, surprised when Gretchen interjected with some measure of anger to her tone. "Are you as much of an ass when you're sober? Because you're making it kind-of hard to believe that you're not."

"Hey, can I get out to use the restroom?" Sean asked at which time David and Gretchen exited the booth to let Sean pass.

Gretchen and David sat in the booth again as the waitress stopped at the table, leaving the check. Before walking away, Sean looked at the check and left money for his portion of the bill on the table. David took the check in his hands, calculating the individual totals, sliding down in his seat as he did, his shoes stopped at the opposite side of the booth beneath where Blaine was seated.

"Whoa, what are those, like, size twelves?" Blaine chuckled. "Bet you're packin'!"

David's face darkened in expression. Gretchen again stared daggers at Blaine again. Kurt performed his third Blaine-related facepalm of the evening. There was no verbal response.

Sean returned from the restroom, and everyone had laid their contributions to the check on the table. David and Gretchen again exited the booth so Sean could return to his seat. Gretchen was about to sit back down when Blaine reached over and grabbed a handful of David's ass. David turned slowly, shaking his head at Blaine. "Dude, please don't do that," David sounded quiet, more pleading than threatening.

At this Gretchen leaned into Blaine's face. "Hey cupcake-boy, you better watch yourself or you're gonna get your ass kicked by a little girl tonight, and it _will_ be embarrassing." Gretchen stood straighter. "I'm going to the little girls' room to powder my nose. I'll be back in a minute." The rage was still apparent in her voice.

David, still standing, collected the money from the table. "I'm gonna go pay the bill and hit the restroom. Be back in a few."

Gretchen and David walked away as three teenaged boys seated themselves at a table near their booth. Sean spoke frankly to Blaine. "Dude, you don't want to piss Gretchen off. She could slay with words alone; if she starts throwing punches, you're dust."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Kurt squealed at Blaine.

"Ooh, this is serious," Blaine laughed back. "I've just been F-bombed by Kurt!"

"Damned right! You've been baiting David since we left that club. And what was with that song you and Randy did? David got all weird while you were up there singing." Kurt's hands were flailing melodramatically as he fired off words like bullets from a machine gun. Sean was astounded at the display before him. "For a guy who's been bothering me to get back with him for three weeks now, you're proving yourself to be quite a catch between being weird at school, whiny and pathetic most of the time, and a complete ass in mixed company. This is not going to improve your standing with me... "

"Hey, check out the girl fight!" one of the teenaged boys at the nearby table verbalized loudly.

Sean craned his head around to see where the voice had originated. Kurt, stunned, froze. Blaine appeared similarly surprised if somewhat exhausted.

At the table were three boys: a scruffy-faced dark-haired guy with a cocky expression, a guy with blonde curly hair who seemed disinterested, and a bespectacled frizzy-haired nerdy-looking fellow who seemed quite amused at his dark-haired friend's observation. "I think we have front-row center to a queer domestic squabble." The nerdy guy laughed at his dark-haired friend's comment; the blonde boy looked downward, shaking his head, serious expression.

"Um, why don't you mind your own business; this doesn't concern you," Kurt shot back at them, confrontational and unbending. Blaine remained frozen.

"Because you're an eyesore and an earsore, and you're _making_ it our business," the dark-haired boy replied with a serious expression, hinting at anger.

"Hey, what's up, guys?" David appeared with an arrogant posture and cocky grin, addressing the table of strangers. Gretchen was clinging to his arm affecting her perfect tough-girl expression and hard-ass pose.

The three boys looked up, assuming that one of them was acquainted with this guy and his presumed girlfriend. The arrogant dark-haired boy spoke up. "We were out shooting pool and decided to come here to get something to eat when we happened upon this table of little fags over here making noise."

"'Sthat right?" David replied smiling and glancing over to Kurt, Blaine, and Sean. "What do you think you should do about it?" he addressed the dark haired boy.

A few moments of silence passed, the blonde boy was looking downward, seeming to wish he wasn't involved. "Think we should all go outside for a lesson?" David spoke, grinning.

"Yeah," the dark-haired boy replied firmly as the three boys stood up.

David glanced over to Kurt, Blaine, and Sean, giving the three a subtle grin and a wink. Sean was smirking to himself: he'd seen scenarios similar to this played out a few times at Thurston: _Dave knew what he was doing_. Blaine appeared nervous, fearing he'd taken things too far where David was concerned, and he didn't know David well enough to predict what was actually happening (plus, he was drunk and judgementally compromised). Kurt was smiling: _Karofsky is back_.

The group of seven boys and one girl exited the restaurant, gravitating toward an empty place in the parking lot near a dumpster. Kurt, Blaine, and Sean were facing David and the three strangers; Gretchen stood to the side between the two groups. "What do you have to say to them?" David addressed the three strangers.

Some silence passed as the two groups faced each other, reading facial expressions. "Just like I thought," the arrogant dark-haired boy spoke, "these faggots don't know how to fight."

With that, David spun to face the three strangers, widened his arms, collecting them, and pushed them back against the side of the dumpster. Their contact with the metal made a sickening thud.

"Fuck, man, what the fuck?" the dark-haired boy yelled.

"Here's the news," David exclaimed inches from their faces, a leering grin on his face. "I'm with these guys," he nodded backward toward Kurt, Blaine, and Sean over his shoulder as Gretchen grinned. "If you have something to say to them, you should say it to me as well. Now, I could kick all three of your asses by myself, but that would accomplish nothing other than granting you three the dubious bragging rights of having had your asses kicked by an angry faggot."

The blonde boy paled; the dark-haired boy was visibly shaken; the nerd was no longer grinning.

"What's your name, scruffy?" David addressed the dark-haired boy.

"Ryan," he answered quietly.

"Blondie?" David addressed the next boy.

"Aaron."

"Geek-squad?" David spoke to the spectacled boy.

"Um, Horace."

" _What?_ " David exclaimed. " _Horace?_ You've gotta be shittin' me."

"Uh, no, man, his name is Horace," Aaron confirmed.

"Horace?" David, still incredulous. "What do they call you for-short? Whore?"

"Um, Ace," Horace answered.

David shook his head. "Yeah, right. The deal is this," David addressed the three boys individually, pointing to each as he spoke. "I don't hate you because you have brown eyes, I don't hold it against you that you have curly-blonde hair, and," David stopped for a moment, shaking his head. "I don't hate you because your parents cursed you with a dumb-ass name. Got it?"

The three boys remained motionless. "My name's Dave. You guys like to play pool, I take it?"

The three boys mumbled and nodded a collective affirmative response as David continued, determined. "I like to shoot pool. Maybe we'll run into each other sometime and have a nice friendly game of eight-ball. Maybe we can all be friends, but first you're gonna have to lose that wrong-ass attitude. You don't even fucking _know_ me. You know nothing about me. Don't hate me or my friends just because you happen to be a slave to your own ignorance, got it?"

 A police car drove slowly close to the gathering in the parking lot. The driver rolled down his window and addressed them. "What's going on here?"

David addressed the policeman politely. "Just hanging out, talking with some friends, officer. That's all."

"No trouble?" the policeman asked.

David shook his head confidently. "No troubles, sir."

"Okay then, just keep it quiet." With that the patrol car drove slowly away.

David addressed the three boys one last time. "Evolve."

With that, David turned and faced Kurt, Blaine, Sean, and Gretchen. "Let's get outta here."

With that, the group of four boys and Gretchen piled into Kurt's Navigator and drove off.

"Dave, man, you kick ass," Sean offered, smiling. "This was the best fucking week of my life."

David smiled to himself quietly from the shotgun seat. Kurt couldn't contain his smile as he drove. Gretchen reached over the seat and rubbed David's shoulder. Blaine sat silent between Gretchen and Sean, a troubled expression on his face.

Kurt took Sean home first then drove to Gretchen's house. As Gretchen prepared to depart, she reached over the seat and hugged David from behind, kissing him on the cheek. "You are amazing, Comrade Karofsky," she spoke quietly as she did before leaving the car.

It was nine-forty-five when the Navigator arrived at David's house. "Blaine's car is here, and there's no way he's driving home tonight," David observed. "I'll check with my parents, but It'll probably be cool for him to crash here."

The three boys entered David's house as David called out for his parents. "Mom, Dad, we have a small situation."

Kurt and Blaine stood in the entryway while they heard David speaking with his parents in a nearby room. The conversation was unintelligible. Finally, David, Paul, and Lorraine emerged. Paul and Lorraine greeted the boys with bothered expressions on their faces. "Blaine can crash here in the gameroom or the guest room. It would be too much trouble running around and getting him home and shuffling cars tonight. He'd be better just to drive himself home in the morning. Blaine, you should call your parents and let them know what's going on. You want the couch in the gameroom or the guest room?"

"The gameroom's fine," Blaine answered, betraying disappointment in himself.

"Okay, you can go down there and get yourself situated," David spoke. "I'll be down in a few."

Paul came into the entryway and addressed Kurt. "You weren't drinking, were you?"

Kurt answered politely. "No, none of us were supposed to be drinking, but Blaine still managed to screw up. I apologize for this major imposition."

Paul shook his head. "No problem. Blaine is fortunate to have responsible friends." He smiled at both Kurt and David.

"Did you call your parents?" David addressed Blaine as he and Kurt descended into the gameroom.

"Yes, everything's okay," Blaine responded.

"Oh, things are far from okay, Blaine," Kurt lit into him. "You've been acting like a pathetic nutcase for weeks, you've taken advantage of David's kindness and the kindness of his parents, you've insulted him, and, to top it off, you've proven yet again that you could well-be the poster-child for teen alcoholism!"

David fought hard to contain his laughter: _Kurt was funny_. Blaine stared up at Kurt, wordless.

"I'm going to go home," Kurt spat finally. "See you in school tomorrow. I assume you'll be coming in late."

"I'll see you to the door, Kurt," David said as he followed Kurt up the stairs.

Kurt and David stood by the front door in the entryway, speaking quietly. "Give a call when you get in, okay?" David asked.

"Sure," Kurt regained his smile. "You were incredible tonight, David."

David smiled humbly. "Thanks. And, well, whatever the reason why you sang that song tonight, that particular song, you definitely owned it."

Kurt let himself out of the door and, looking back at David, said, "I did sing it for you."

David smiled as he watched Kurt's car drive into the darkness, then he turned and descended the stairs to the gameroom once again.

Blaine was reclining on the couch on his side. David placed a wastebasket near him. "I don't think you drank enough to be sick, but, in case you are, here's a wastebasket. And, yeah, try to sleep on your side; not on your back. There's a bathroom over there. I'll keep the light on so you can find it overnight if you need to." David's voice was polite and responsible as he pointed in the direction of the bathroom. "See you in the morning." Blaine lay silent with a blank expression on his face.

David was in his bedroom when Kurt called.

"Hey, Kurt. Get in okay?"

"Yes, everything's good. This evening leaves me with so many incredible stories to tell people." David laughed as Kurt continued. "Santana and Brittany are going to be disappointed that they missed the showdown in the parking lot when I tell them about it."

"I dug it," David chuckled.

"Hey, what was the deal with that song Blaine and Randy were singing?"

David exhaled loudly, nearly a sigh. "When Blaine showed up at the house before anyone else did, we started talking about how you and him were on-hold,"

"Not anymore," Kurt interrupted. "We're done after tonight."

A few seconds of silence passed before David continued. "Well, anyway, I guess you never told him about my Valentine's Day fiasco. I mentioned that it reminded me of that song. That song still reminds me of that night."

Kurt was silent for a spell before speaking. "So, Blaine did sing that particular song with bad intent. David, Blaine is usually a good guy, but you barely know him. He's maybe not the best person to trust being that you don't know him well."

David shook his head. "Yeah, well, I know now. Well, he _was_ drunk."

"David, don't make excuses for him."

"Can I trust you, Kurt? I hope I can. I do. Trust you, that is."

Kurt replied after a silence. "Yes, David. I'd never hurt you consciously like that."

David smiled to himself. "Okay. You probably need to get to sleep."

"Yes. Good night, David."

"Good night, Kurt. Talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes, David. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

 

**Monday April 2**

Blaine woke to the sound of shuffling and opened his eyes to find David towering over him standing next to the couch. David had a bottle of sports-drink in his hand.

"If you're hung-over, this might help you feel better," David spoke politely. "It's six AM. Do you think you'll be okay to drive?"

Blaine sat up, squinting, not speaking yet.

"Do you feel like you slept okay? You weren't sick overnight or anything?" David asked, eyeing the empty wastebasket.

"Yeah, I slept okay. I feel kinda drained. I wasn't sick." Blaine's answers were slow.

David sat on the edge of a chair, facing Blaine. Blaine shook his head and continued to speak.

"Dave, I'm sorry. I was such an ass to you yesterday."

"You were drunk, okay?" David responded. "I have to believe that was why. I mean, I've never given you any reason to do malicious things to me like that. Not recently, at least. We're cool. I'm giving you the benefit of a doubt. Please don't do that again, though."

Blaine shook his head, humble and contrite. "You're right. I fucked up. Oh, that song? Randy had nothing to do with that. I talked him into it, and he thought it was just a badass song. He had no idea that it meant anything." Blaine gathered his thoughts for a moment; David nodded as Blaine continued. "I potentially fucked up a friendship with you, and you were nothing but great to me, well, all of us, last night. I fucked up things with me and Kurt permanently."

"Kurt's still your friend, Blaine. You didn't fuck things up that badly."

"I gotta get my act together," Blaine thought aloud. "I have some serious growing-up to do."

"Hey, it's cool," David summoned an understanding expression. "Don't we all?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced songs:
> 
> Sean sang "Learn to Fly" by the Foo Fighters  
> Santana sang "Johnny Got a Boom Boom" by Imelda May  
> Gretchen sang "Strange Currencies" by REM  
> Blaine and Randy sang "In the End" by Linkin Park  
> Kurt sang "Supernatural Superserious" by REM


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" supplies the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 12,000

**Chapter 30**

 

Voicemail message from Kurt, Monday April 2, 4:13PM  
 _Good afternoon, David. It's Kurt, making my regular afternoon phone call. You can call me later if you like as I should be home all evening. Otherwise, I hope you had a good day so far. Goodbye._

Voicemail message from David, Monday April 2, 9:24PM  
 _Hey, just me returning your call. Sorry it took so long. I had a busy day. After Rupert left, I had arranged to interview Rachel's dads for my History project, so I rode out to their place and did that. Dinner time is going to be much more consistent now that mom's back, but I will not complain about that; then Strando flagged me down for some Modern Warfare. By now, you could be asleep, I guess; and, me, I haven't touched my schoolwork since Rupert left, so I have some of that to do. If you get this message and feel like calling, you're welcome to do so. Otherwise, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night, Kurt._

Voicemail message from Kurt, Tuesday April 3, 4:26PM  
 _Hello, David. It's Kurt. I wasn't asleep when you called last night, but I was trying to get a huge reading assignment finished so I had my ringer shut off. Rather than call after I heard your voicemail, I thought that you should take care of your school work; plus, I wasn't far away from going to sleep myself at the time. Call any time. Bye, David._

Voicemail message from David, Tuesday April 3, 6:25PM  
 _Hey, Kurt. I got your message. I guess that you're probably eating right now or something. I'm actually about to go out and collect another one of my interviews for my project. You can call back later if you want, but I have a fair amount of driving to do to meet this person so, if I don't talk to you tonight, I'll catch you tomorrow._

Voicemail message from David, Wednesday April 4, 4:14PM  
 _Well, I thought I'd actually catch you since this is usually the time you call me. At this rate, I have no idea when we'll actually speak, so I guess we'll just hafta wait and see. I'm sure we'll catch up to each other one these days, and that will end our current communication-through-voicemail phase. Ohhhh. I just realized that what I said sounded like I intentionally rhymed everything. I did not try to do that. Please disregard that aspect of my message. Bye._

Voicemail message from Kurt, Wednesday, April 4, 9:48PM  
 _Good evening, David. It's Kurt. It's kind-of late, and I am ready to retire for the night. When you called earlier, I was staying after school to work on my audition song. I guess we're both having a busy week with all of the work we're doing for school. Hopefully, we'll actually talk soon. Good night, David._

 

**Thursday, April 5**

Kurt had not been home from school for more than five minutes when his phone rang.

"Hello, David!"

"Tag, you're it," David nearly shouted back causing Kurt to laugh to himself, surprised at the greeting but glad to hear David's voice.

"It seems like a week since we actually talked, David."

"It's only been four days, but, yeah, it does seem like forever. I realized that I really need to get to work on my History project. It needs to be completed and turned in by the twentieth, and I have a fairly large amount of work to do."

Kurt responded almost immediately. "I have been busy with school work also. I have two papers due, the run-up to finals, all the rehearsing for Nationals, and my audition."

"Speaking of, I really can't talk for long. Mom is going to be telling me that dinner's ready soon, and, after that, I need to go get another interview." There was a silence for a moment that hung in the air. "Um, will you be around later, like tonight?"

"Yes, David, I don't have anything pressing tonight."

"Well, is it okay if I just give you a call when I get in?" David spoke. "It'll probably be around nine or nine-thirty."

"That will be good, David. Talk to you then."

"Bye, Kurt."

"Goodbye, David."

It was just after nine o'clock in the evening and Kurt was organizing his notes in preparation for his upcoming final exams when his phone rang.

"Good evening, David," Kurt's words were energetic.

"Hi, Kurt. I just got back a little while ago."

"How are the interviews coming, David?"

"Well, it's a fair amount of work getting them all, but I think that the more material I have to work with, the better the resulting project will be."

"Have you interviewed Sean? It occurred to me that he's, um, eligible now."

"Y'know, I didn't even think of that," David spoke as if puzzled by his oversight of the obvious. "I'll definitely ask him, and he'd probably want to be included." David shifted the conversation. "I finally heard back from the Air Force guy stationed in Dayton that I want to interview, I'm trying to set up an interview with him for next weekend. I'll hafta make a road trip." There was silence for a few moments. "You could come with me if your schedule allows," David said, hinting, a playful edge to his delivery.

Kurt smiled at the thought. "You'll need to let me know exactly when you're going. If I'm free, I'll definitely consider it." Kurt changed the subject asking, "Have you interviewed your dad? I know you thought about including that kind of stuff at one point. Did you still plan on interviewing my dad?”

“Uh, in a perfect world, I could include that kinda stuff,” David answered. “The thing is, the due date is coming fast and I gotta draw the line somewhere. I think the interviews with the people who are directly part of the gay community are the most crucial to my project. Interviewing my parents and your dad and stepmom would have been great, but I think they’re a little less important to the final project than the rest of us are. I mean, I think all of the interviews touch upon our families’ reactions anyway.”

“I can see that.” Kurt agreed before shifting the subject again. “Have you been keeping up with your running?"

"Oh," David laughed, deflated. "Well, as of yesterday, yes. See, I had an unexpected houseguest sleeping off his drunk in my gameroom on Monday morning, and I didn't want to cut out on him and leave him at the mercy of my parents." Kurt laughed as David continued. "Then, the rest of the day Monday was just too hectic and I needed that hour of sleep I'd have normally used to run on Tuesday morning. Now I'm back on track." David paused for a moment. "Oh, speaking of, how's Blaine been?"

"Blaine's actually been okay. He's acting like he was before we had our problems, more-or-less, only without the presumed boyfriend role which, for Blaine, consists of me being an accessory and constant supplier of superlatives for him."

"Uh... " David's voice betrayed confusion or possible exasperation at the comment, " _really?_ "

Kurt sighed, a sound of futility. "Maybe I'm so relieved that it's over that I'm just seeing the negatives right now, I don't know. For the last few weeks, it seemed like we were on life-support or something. Every time he'd whine at me, I'd almost want to tell him to get the message already. Maybe after a few weeks, I'll have a more objective view on what exactly happened and how I felt. In the meantime, it feels like we've gone back to being friends, which is good."

"Well, he apologized to me Monday morning before he left. He sounded really sincere, Kurt."

"Well, he should have, David," Kurt's voice sounded agitated. "Some of the things he did and said to you Sunday night were inexcusable. You're being forgiving above-and-beyond any realistic expectation where Blaine is concerned."

"Kurt," David paused, speaking quietly and determined when he resumed, "stop for just a second, and think about who you're talking to here."

"Okay," Kurt's voice calmed, "point taken."

"So, will you be meeting me to run Saturday morning?" David asked, almost out-of-nowhere and sounding hopeful.

"I think I can manage that," Kurt answered quickly, enthusiastically, "especially if we stop at that diner for breakfast again."

"Well, I actually talked my parents into coming out with me, so, weather permitting, they'll be doing a brisk morning walk while you and I run; and, since they love the place, breakfast afterward at the Dining Car is a given," David added. "Perhaps you'd be able to talk your dad and stepmom into joining us: _hint, hint_."

Kurt laughed. "I _like_ that idea, David. That might be a painless way to get my dad into some kind of physical activity. Good thinking." Kurt thought he could hear David smile through the telephone.

"Anything noteworthy going on at McKinley these days?" David asked after a moment.

"Quinn Fabray came back this week."

David's voice perked, stuttering a bit. "Um, uh, how is she?"

"Well, she's in a wheelchair right now," Kurt explained. "She's keeping a really positive attitude, but there's the possibility she won't walk again. She says that she's going to be dancing at Nationals with us. I hope that's true."

"Yeah, it would be really sad if she was like that for the rest of her life," David said. "But, her attitude will go a long way in maybe helping her to recover."

"Yes, that's true," Kurt agreed. "Artie is not so sure. They told him the same thing when he was in the accident that left him wheelchair-bound. I mean, we're all pulling for her, but the possibilities of her not improving much are there."

"I don't know Quinn well, but I know she's your friend, and, well, I wouldn't wish that upon anyone." David paused for a moment before continuing. "If you think she'd care or even remember who I am and you think it'd be appropriate, you could tell her that she and her recovery are in my thoughts."

"David, of course she knows who you are. And I'll tell her, and I'm sure she'll appreciate hearing it."

David spoke after several seconds of silence. "Well, I have a bunch of interviews to listen to, notes to take, and stuff like that in addition to my regular school work. I'm going to be busy with most of that stuff for most of the day tomorrow. I'll try to talk to you tomorrow, but, in case I don't, can I count on seeing you at the park Saturday morning?"

"I can say almost definitely yes, I plan on being at the park Saturday morning and probably Sunday morning also. I can't promise that my dad or Carole will be there, but I'm going to strongly suggest the idea."

"Well, that's about as much as I could ask," David replied. "If I don't talk to you tomorrow, I'll just see you early on Saturday. Goodbye, Kurt."

"Good night, David."

"Yeah," David remarked, nervously as if forgetting himself. "Good night."

 

**Saturday, April 7**

The sky was lightening in hues of purple streaked with orange clouds as Kurt's Navigator slowed and stopped behind Paul Karofsky's car. Paul, Lorraine, and David were standing and waving as Kurt, Burt, Carole, and Finn climbed out and greeted the Karofskys.

"Hey, looks like you all made it today," David greeted, smiling. Good morning Kurt, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel. Good seeing you, Finn."

Finn smiled. "Hey, it was either scrounging for breakfast in an empty house or this. Good to see you also, Dave."

"Oh," David laughed, "so this is part of the breakfast deal for you?"

"Well, yeah, but, then, now that football season is several months over, I haven't been getting this kind of workout," Finn explained. "I'm interested to see how well I do. It's amazing how soon that stamina goes away."

"Sam crashing at your place?" David asked to Finn and Kurt collectively. "Didn't bring Sam?"

"Sam was out late doing a DJ job," Kurt informed David while stretching. "He was still asleep when we left."

David approached Kurt closer, regarding Burt's loud and enthusiastic greeting and introductions to David's parents. "Thanks for bringing the parents. Your dad sounds like he's into it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "My dad was excited about this whole thing. He said he wanted to run with you and me and Finn. I had to talk him out of it for fear that his heart would explode. He thinks he's still eighteen on some level."

David laughed. "Your dad _is_ still eighteen on some level. His body might disagree, but it's great how well he relates to people our age and still manages to be a parent."

Burt, Carole, Paul and Lorraine were well on their way briskly walking the park when David, Kurt, and Finn began running. "Finn's gonna smoke you and me, Kurt," David predicted. "I was never as fast as he is."

Kurt seconded David observation. "Finn is, like, two-thirds leg. He's taller than both of us, and a good part of that is in his legs."

True to David's observation, Finn was well-ahead of Kurt and David all of the time, often backtracking to let them regroup. As they finished, Kurt and David were catching their breath by the two parked cars and waiting for the parents to arrive back from their walk; Finn, however, seemed largely unfazed.

"Dude, with all that backtracking you did, you probably ran, like, a half-mile more than Kurt and me," David said to Finn between labored breaths. "Could you at least, like, _pretend_ to be exhausted out of courtesy to Kurt and me?"

Finn shook his head, seeming somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry, guys." He reached into Kurt's Navigator and retrieved a towel to blot the excess sweat from his hair.

"I'm just joking with you, Hudson," David huffed back through an exhausted smile.

"Actually, I'm kind-of impressed that you guys kept up as well as you did," Finn added. "I know I have a long stride and I'm pretty fast, but you both paced yourselves nicely. It really looked pretty effortless for Kurt."

"Dude, your stepbrother's in good shape," David answered back to Finn. "Probably a lot of people don't realize that, but he's kinda built like a track-guy. It came as no surprise when he was able to keep up with me without a problem."

Kurt kept his head down, catching his breath but smiling to himself.

After about five minutes, the parents arrived and both parties left the park for the nearby diner for breakfast. Kurt, David, and Finn sat at a table by themselves while Burt, Carole, Paul, and Lorraine sat at an adjacent table.

David, as before had ordered an omelette loaded with extras; Kurt ordered from the blackboard of daily-features: pancakes with fresh raspberry syrup and whipped cream; Finn ordered an enormous breakfast platter which included a stack of pancakes, eggs, and hash browns. David was even astounded at the amount of food Finn made disappear. Kurt had separated a small portion of his pancakes and set them aside on a separate plate and nudged it in David's direction just as he had finished his omelette. "You know you want to try this," Kurt said, grinning at David.

David drew the plate closer and nodded, smiling. "I guess you could see me eyeing those pancakes when the waitress delivered our food."

Finn grinned innocently at the exchange. "I'm gonna go use the restroom, guys," Finn said as he stood from the table. "I'll be back in a minute."

David began eating the raspberry-soaked pancakes. "This is awesome. It's not breakfast to me, though, it's more like dessert, but it's awesome."

The conversation at the parents' table was loud and friendly. Burt was talking about his adventures in politics, much to the amusement of Paul and Lorraine. Carole and Lorraine seemed to getting along especially well.

David eyed the action at the table with a sly grin as he finished the pancakes which Kurt had saved for him. "This is good," he confided quietly to Kurt.

"The pancakes?" Kurt questioned.

"Yeah, the pancakes are definitely awesome, but I was referring to _this_ ," David said, jerking his head in the direction of their parents. "I'm hoping my mom and your stepmom are getting along nicely. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom dearly, but most of her friends are these pretentious, socialite-types who are pretty artificial. Being friends with a congressman and his wife will satisfy her desire to be friends with, like, important people; but your dad and your stepmom are really nothing like the fake braggarts she usually associates with. Plus, it might put all of her self-important friends in their place when she tells them that she's regular walking-buddies with Congressman and Mrs. Hummel."

"Ha!" Kurt snickered. "You had an ulterior motive in wanting me to bring my parents?"

David blushed slightly. "Really, I didn't. It just kinda occurred to me when we were out at the park. Your dad and your stepmom are, like, real. My mom's regular friends just kinda remind me of that popularity-contest social order I was too wrapped-up in when I went to McKinley, the kinda stuff that serves no purpose to me right now."

Kurt smiled and nodded at David, once again, wanting to reach across the table and hold David's hand. _What is it about this cute, little diner that makes me want to do that?_ Kurt mused to himself.

Finn returned to the two adjacent tables as both tables stood, preparing to leave.

"Breakfast is on me today," Paul announced as he scooped the check from the table and reached into his pocket for his wallet.

This brought some minor protestations from Burt and Carol until Burt announced, seemingly on the spot, "Well, then, we'll meet you at the park again tomorrow morning, and breakfast follows immediately at the Hummel residence, and I won't take 'no' for an answer!"

Carole, Paul, and Lorraine all laughed agreeably at the unexpected invitation while David, Kurt, and Finn eyed each other silently grinning and nodding.

The two families cheerfully departed the restaurant and drove to their separate destinations. Upon arriving home, David went upstairs to shower then retired to his bedroom to begin sifting through all of the interviews he'd collected during the course of the week. He had just turned on his laptop when he heard a knock; he turned to see Paul standing in the open doorway.

"Hey, David, can we talk?"

"Sure, Dad, c'mon in. I was just about to work on stuff for my History project, but I hadn't started just yet. What's up?"

Paul seated himself on the wood trunk and faced David who pulled his chair away from his desk, closer to Paul. "I was just wondering," Paul spoke, "how have things been between you and Kurt?"

David thought for a moment, puzzled slightly by his father's question. "Things are good, Dad."

"Well, a couple of weeks ago, you had said that you thought you had feelings for him," Paul clarified, thoughtfully, "and that was maybe causing some problems."

David shook his head. "I haven't let it be a problem. His friendship is too important to me. Plus, I haven't really had much time to think about it between school work and working on this project."

"Do you think you still have feelings for him?" Paul continued.

David smiled mildly. "I think I _could_ have feelings for him, but if we just stay like the friends that we are, I'm good with that. A few weeks ago, I really didn't have much going on. And then, I got a kick in my butt in the form of a party that reminded me that I have a bunch of other friends and some things going on in my life that I need to take care of. That got me kind-of unafraid to leave the house and do what I need to do. Yeah, I can thank Kurt for that one also."

Paul smiled reassuringly and nodded.

"Does Mom know about that?" David asked pensively. "Does she know that I had feelings for Kurt?"

Paul exhaled and shook his head. "Your mother fully understands and accepts that you will have boyfriends and, eventually, a partner someday. I don't think she's quite ready to deal with you having an actual boyfriend yet, so, no, I didn't tell her about how your feelings for Kurt were affecting you. The way I see it, if it's no longer a problem, she doesn't need to know." Paul's expression puzzled slightly. "Um, did Kurt and Blaine break up?"

"Yeah," David's answer was low-pitched and grave as if he was weary of the melodrama surrounding the topic. "Blaine's drunken behavior last weekend was the end for it."

"Blaine seems like a nice kid," Paul offered.

"Oh, he is," David defended. "And, the truth is, I was kinda sad to see Kurt and Blaine split like that, I mean, I liked the two of them together. Kurt said, though, that there were things that bothered him about his situation with Blaine for a while, but last weekend, Blaine was a total jerk when we all went out. Kurt says he'd seen Blaine like that before. I guess he'd just had enough."

"Well," Paul nodded, "I'm just glad that you and Kurt are still good friends and it's not causing you any stress."

"Oh, hey," David asked, "did Mom like meeting the Hummels?"

Paul smiled. "Yes, I think she liked meeting Carole and Burt very much. I think this may be a regular thing."

"That's good," David smiled while replying, "because I like Mr. and Mrs. Hummel better than most of Mom's other friends."

Paul laughed. "You and me both."

 

* * *

 

It was early evening, and Kurt had just finished organizing his work for his term papers when Finn returned from working in the garage. Burt and Carole had gone shopping a short time before, Sam had a job that evening, and the house was quiet. Kurt was in the living room sitting on the couch facing his open laptop, checking and answering email when Finn quietly entered and sat beside him, facing forward.

"Hey, Kurt?"

Kurt glanced over from his monitor. "Finn?"

"D'you like Dave?"

Kurt became visibly tense for a moment, carefully wording his response in his mind before speaking. "David has become a really good friend."

"No," Finn's voice was quiet and thoughtful, "do you _like_ Dave?"

Kurt was silent for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts. "I don't know how to answer that. Sometimes I feel like I might. He's not like anyone else I know."

Finn smirked and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Kurt, you can say that about anybody. I'm not like anyone else you know either. You don't know anyone else like Blaine, or Puck, or Sam, or... uh, Rachel, for that matter; but if I asked you if you liked any of them, like, _like_ -liked any of them, you could give me a straight answer."

Kurt smiled, a rather defeated grin, as he leaned back into the couch. "I don't know how I feel about David exactly, Finn. I was with Blaine for over a year, and, now that that's ended, sometimes I think I'm giving my friendship with David more weight than I should. When I say that David isn't like anyone else I know, it's because his view on things is so different. The things he says make me question things about myself. In a good way, I think. Blaine was just completely predictable the whole time I knew him." Kurt paused for a moment, his expression becoming more intense. "David doesn't know this, but a lot of what he and I talked about when he first got out of the hospital made me question things about Blaine and me. And I wouldn't want him to know that."

Finn nodded, still facing forward, as Kurt continued. "Sometimes the feelings I get when I'm around David make me nervous or even afraid."

Finn's expression hardened as he turned his expression to meet Kurt's. "You mean, like, he scares you like he used to at McKinley?"

"No!" Kurt was quick to answer. "I don't think he's capable of doing anything like that now. I think it makes me a little uncomfortable that the way he thinks is so unfamiliar to me, and he always seems really, just, for lack of a better word, _correct_." Kurt paused for a moment, speaking more loudly when he began again. "And I need to be sure of what I feel because I don't want to hurt David."

"So," Finn observed, "you think he likes _you_."

The defeated smile again. "I don't know. He told me he did once. I told him that he just thought that he did, and, later, he said I was right about that, that he didn't know me at the time, really."

Finn inhaled and began to speak, shaking his head. "I'm no expert. Given my past experiences with the girls I've gone out with, I can safely say that I'm pretty clueless sometimes. All I'm really sure of is the way I feel about Rachel right now. And I really don't have a clue as to how the, uh, _gay_ -thing works, but, watching you and Dave when you're around each other, it looks to me like you two are, like, _into_ each other."

Kurt smiled to himself, lowering his head, as Finn continued. "If you ever are sure of what you feel, and you feel that you like Dave that way, I think you should go for it."

Kurt turned to Finn, showing his smile, Finn nervously smiled back with a sideways glance while Kurt spoke. "David and I are both really busy right now. Other than this morning and a couple of days ago, we barely talked this week. Maybe once all of this school work is under our belts, we can take a look at how we feel. David has told me that he's not ready for a boyfriend while he's still trying to get himself together on his end, and I respect that. And, as for me, I'm feeling good right now that I'm unattached after being with Blaine for a year. It feels kind-of liberating."

Finn nodded and smiled, satisfied with Kurt's analysis.

 

* * *

 

Voicemail message from David, Monday April 9, 4:28PM  
 _Hey, Kurt. Thought I might catch you after you got in from school. Guess not, but, no big deal, it's cool. Decided to take your advice and ask Sean if he'd interview for my project, so he's coming over tonight. It shouldn't keep us busy too late so you could give a call later if that's alright. Hey, thanks, and pass it along to your parents from my folks and me, for the awesome breakfast yesterday. My parents have already committed to having all of you here for breakfast after our run this coming Sunday. Looks like it's gonna be a regular weekend thing. Talk later. Bye._

 

* * *

 

David was facing his laptop in his bedroom, some background music playing as he finished reading the latest reply he'd received from Jay, the Air Force man stationed in Dayton, when he heard a knock on his bedroom door and instinctively said, "C'mon in."

David spun his chair around to see Sean opening the door and walking into David's bedroom. "Hi, Dave."

"Hey, Sean. I was expecting you, but, I guess, with the music on, I didn't hear you arrive."

"Yeah, your mom let me in and told me just to go up to your room."

"Cool," David said, "make yourself comfortable." David watched with an expression of pleasant puzzlement as Sean closed the door behind himself and stepped over to seat himself in the chair at the far corner of the room. David's brow wrinkled as a wise-guy smirk spread across his face. "You've transformed, Sean."

Sean merely snickered in reply, his face turning slightly red and looking downward. David continued. "Okay, you're still the same guy I went to school with, the guy in my calc class who said he wanted to fade into the background; except that your expression is different, your attitude is different, the way you carry yourself is totally different. Dammit, you have, like, a _swagger_ now." David grinned, mouth open. "What is _up_ with that?"

Sean laughed. "Maybe I have transformed. I know I feel comfortable being myself, and I didn't always. I guess everyone can see it. Girls have been flirting with me at school for the last week-and-a-half. That has never happened before. Gretchen says that, suddenly, I'm one of the three sexiest guys she knows."

"Oh yeah? Who are the other two?"

"Johnno and you."

"Aw, shut up!" David's face reddened through a wider smile.

Sean snickered. "I seriously feel like doing things I always thought about doing but was always too chicken-shit to do."

David shook his head, still smiling widely and pondering the enigma seated before him. "What kinda things?"

"Oh, I dunno. Just, like, telling off the idiots who've made my high school experience a drag for most of the last three years. Telling most of those wannabe-jocks and gangstas that there are more chicks that want a piece of my gay tail right now than have even looked at any of their fake asses."

"It sounds like I caught you in the optimum state-of-mind to be interviewed," David said after letting out a hearty chuckle. "You ready for this?"

Sean returned the laugh with evil grin. "Yep. Fire away."

 

* * *

 

Voicemail message from Kurt, Monday, April 9, 10:05PM  
 _Good evening, David. It's Kurt calling. I'm convinced that you are now intentionally leaving voicemail messages which rhyme. They sound awkward, they're not very good, but it is oddly endearing. Regular Saturday and Sunday mornings in the park followed by breakfast are definitely something to look forward to, especially since we've both been so busy. I hope your interview with Sean went well. I'll be very interested in the final outcome of your interviews. It is fairly late, so I am going to get to sleep now. Have a good night, and I hope to talk to you soon. Good night, David._

 

**Wednesday, April 11**

David reclined on his bed as he dialed Kurt's number and put the phone up to his hear, hearing Kurt answer.

"Hi, David."

"Tag. You're it again."

Kurt chuckled through the other side of the phone.

"I hope it's not too late," David said into the phone, smiling at Kurt's laughter.

"No, just a little past nine and not ready to go to sleep yet. How was your day, David?"

"It was good, productive. I went to the community college today to begin editing together the audio portion of my History project. The rough-draft for the text part is done also, pending the information from that one last interview. How was your day?"

"Ho-hum, but painless. I finished my English term paper and turned it in today. I still have the paper for French class to finish, but it's nearly done as well. How did the interview with Sean go the other night?"

David smiled. "It went great. The way he's been since he's come out has been, like, this metamorphosis or something. He's so much happier and well-defined as a person; and I'm so happy for him."

"He's still only out to his family and friends, right?"

David answered, "Yes, but it's affected everything about his attitude and demeanor and the way he projects himself."

Kurt replied, "One could make the same observation about you, David."

David smiled, but was quick to counter, "Yeah, but, like, Sean is _sexy_ all-of-a-sudden, and everyone seems to see it."

There was a span of silence before Kurt answered, paraphrasing his earlier comment. "Like I said, one could say the same thing about you."

David smiled and shook his head. _Did Kurt just say he was 'sexy'?_

David was silent, stunned for a moment before collecting his thoughts and changing the subject. "I'm going to Dayton Friday afternoon to interview the Air Force guy. I'll be leaving around four. You're still invited."

"Aw, crud!" Kurt sounded genuinely disappointed. "That's our senior-ditch-day. We've all already made plans to go out to Six Flags for the day."

"It's cool," David answered. "I thought it would be a long-shot if you could make it on such short notice anyway; but I needed that interview as soon as I could get it because my project needs to be done by the end of next week."

Kurt inhaled audibly. "I really did want to go. I mean, it seems like ages since we spent time together, just ourselves, and I kinda miss it. Like, a lot."

"Yeah, well, it would be cool to have someone to ride with me to-and-from, but it's no big deal," David explained. "I'm sure we'll have time to hang out after all of the school stuff is finished."

"You're going by yourself?" Kurt sounded concerned.

"Well, yeah," David explained. "It's less than a two-hour drive each way, more like ninety minutes, and I didn't want to impose on my parents or anything. Maybe I could ask one of my Thurston friends, but, like you and me, they all have school stuff also."

Kurt changed the subject. "I told Quinn that she was in your thoughts, and she was glad to hear it. She asked how you were doing, and I told her you were actually doing very well. She was very glad to hear that also."

David smiled upon hearing this. "Cool. Thanks for relaying my message."

There was a span of silence which passed until Kurt began speaking again. "I should actually get going. There are a few things I wanted to do before I retired for the evening. Be careful on your trip to Dayton,"

"I will," David answered. "You're right. It's been too long since we just hung out and talked. I miss it too."

Kurt exhaled before speaking, David imagined that Kurt smiled with the sound of his breathing. "Have a good night, David."

"Good night Kurt. See you Saturday morning if we don't talk between now and then."

**Saturday, April 14**

It was almost broad daylight when the Karofskys met the Hummels at the park. This week, Sam had come with Kurt, Finn, Carole, and Burt. The parents loudly hailed each other, Burt's voice being the loudest of the group, as they began their brisk walk away from the cars leaving the boys to their pre-run chatter and stretching.

"Hey," David greeted enthusiastically, "Good to see you, Sam."

"Hey, Karofsky," Sam shook David's hand with a smile, nodding. "Same."

"I guess last week you were working too late to make it out here in the morning?" David asked.

"Yeah, I had a job last night too, but it was over earlier than the DJ stuff," Sam answered.

"Ask him what kinda job it was," Finn teased.

David gave a confused smile. "Okay, I'll bite. What kinda job were you doing, Sam?"

"I'm a Justin Bieber impersonator at teenage girls' parties," Sam answered, head down and face turning red.

David let out a laugh. "That's actually... kinda cool."

"I get paid pretty well for it," Sam explained, "so I really can't complain."

Kurt smirked and walked up to David speaking at a hushed volume. "How was your trip to Dayton, and how did your interview go?"

"It was good, I mean, the interview was kinda crucial to my overall project, I felt," David explained. "The ride to-and-from was kinda long, but I had burned a CD of the audio portion of the project thus-far and listened to it several times on the way down and back, getting a feel for stuff I might edit further."

"You didn't find anyone to ride with you?" Kurt asked.

"Nah, just went by myself," David furthered. "Traffic was okay, and I made good time. We did the interview in my truck, actually, because, even though he had a pass for the evening, we really didn't have any kind of isolated place to conduct the interview. I was back on the road by eight and home by nine-thirty. We met at a coffee house to get acquainted before the interview."

Kurt smirked. "Military guy. Was he cute?"

David smiled and blushed. "Yeah, I guess. He was in really good shape. Kinda humorless, though. Didn't smile much; not really my type, I think. How was your day at Six Flags?"

"We had a blast," Kurt said, more loudly. "Maybe we can go there again over the summer sometime and drag you and some of your other friends along."

David smiled and nodded. "I think Sam is going to give Finn some formidable competition today," David spoke more loudly, addressing both Finn and Sam.

"Oh, I think so," Finn admitted sincerely smirking back at David.

The four boys began their run, and, as expected, Sam and Finn were closely-matched and ran considerably ahead of both Kurt and David the entire time. This week, Finn didn't feel the need to backtrack so Finn and Sam ran an additional smaller loop around the parking area so all four of them could come to rest at the parked cars at the same time.

Breakfast at the Dining Car was much like it had been the previous week with the four parents sharing a table and the four boys at an adjacent table. As had been the case before, Kurt shared part of his enormous and sweet breakfast (this time a Belgian waffle with fresh peaches) with David to the approving (but silent) smiles of Sam and Finn.

 

* * *

 

Voicemail message from Kurt, Monday, April 16, 4:15PM  
 _Hello, David. It's Kurt. I just got in from school and thought I might catch you. Not much to report, and I'm guessing that you're working on your History project. You can call back or text me or leave me a voicemail if I don't answer. I'll be doing the finishing touches on my term paper for French class. Talk to you soon. Goodbye._

Voicemail message from David, Monday, April 16, 10:34PM  
 _Hey, Kurt, sorry I'm getting back so late. I was at the community college trying to finish the audio for my project. It was sounding kind-of rough, I thought, so I called my friend Corey to give me a hand. He's done sound editing before, and he kinda reworked a lot of it. It was a lot of work, but it sounds one-hundred percent better than it did. Anyway, I'm wiped out. I don't think I'll be running tomorrow morning because I'm so late getting in tonight. I need to proofread the text part of my project again before I actually print it out and turn it in, and I'm hoping to have it turned in tomorrow. I have a few more days, but I just want to be done with it at this point. It's a good thing I'm ahead of schedule in my other work because it gives me a little more leeway where this project is concerned. Hope to talk to you tomorrow. Good night, Kurt._

Voicemail message from Kurt, Tuesday, April 17, 4:32PM  
 _Hi, David. It's Kurt. I got in from school a short while ago. I hope you finished all of the work on your History project, and I'd like to hear the audio portion sometime if I can. I know that Blaine would be interested also. Otherwise, the Glee Club has been working like mad for the upcoming National contest. They put Sue Sylvester in charge of our dance-training, and the woman is a sadist. I mean, she knows how to win, and maybe that's what we need; but she's a sadist still. Luckily, all of my term papers are finished and turned-in; so, until the run-up to finals week, I'm concentrating on the Glee Club and perfecting my song for my NYADA audition. At any rate, I'm sure we'll talk at some point this week. Call back later if you have any energy left. Goodbye, David._

**Thursday April 19**

"Okay, Kurt, what's the deal?"

Kurt's attention was drawn away from gathering books out of his locker the the attitudinal front of Mercedes standing to his right side. Glancing to his left he saw a slightly less tough-looking but no-more-cheerful Rachel.

"Hi, girls," Kurt replied somewhat unsure-sounding, pivoting his head, addressing both. "What are you talking about, Mercedes?"

"I've bugged you more than once recently to come out with me on the weekend for a manicure and a pedicure, and you've declined."

Rachel chimed in, precise as ever, "And you similarly declined when we proposed a girls' night get-together for tomorrow evening."

"What is with that, Kurt? We know that your term papers are done and there's no important work any of us need to do for at least a week." Mercedes demanded an answer in a strong tone even if the level of her voice was low.

Kurt closed his locker, turned around, and exhaled loudly before answering, bowing his head slightly. "The two of you know that you're my best girl-friends, right?" Rachel nodded, understanding; Mercedes' visible attitude did not bend. "The truth is," Kurt continued,"I'm just not feeling like I want to do those things right now."

"Kurt, something's up with you," Mercedes continued. "You haven't worn anything daring to school in a couple of months."

"But I still look great, _right_?" Kurt countered as Mercedes' expression softened, betraying agreement. Kurt continued. "Mercedes, I thought you, of all people, would understand. You're so different from the girl I met two years ago. You're confident and strong. You've found a glamorous side to yourself that's tasteful and elegant, even when you're walking down the uneventful halls of McKinley."

"Is it the break-up with Blaine?" Rachel offered in a soft voice.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Absolutely no," he said quietly but with conviction. "Blaine and I were great for a while, but the longer it went, the more it felt like we were just friends. Really good friends with a lot of similar interests; but we reached a point where nothing was happening. It wasn't either of our faults. We started as friends, and it took us a year to realize that there wasn't anywhere further for it to go. I think Blaine might tell you the same right now."

Kurt addressed the two of them sincerely. "You two know that, if there's something you want to run past me or something that's on your mind that you want me to talk with about or some fashion quandary that you need resolved, I'm always here. For both of you. And, yes, next time I feel I need a chick-flick fix, the two of you will be first on my list to call."

Rachel smiled at this. Mercedes' expression revealed a slight disappointment as she spoke. "I don't mean this in a bad way or anything, but, um... oh, forget it."

"No," Kurt countered, addressing Mercedes directly, close, and softly, "out with it."

"It's gonna sound stupid. And wrong."

"I won't take it that way, Mercedes, I promise; now, what did you start to say that you stopped yourself from actually saying?"

Mercedes exhaled and spoke, almost a whisper. "If I met you for the first time today, or any time within the last month, I wouldn't have had any clue that you're gay. Or at least not an obvious one." Mercedes looked downward, seemingly embarrassed at the admission.

Kurt smiled a small-but-genuine smile. "Mercedes, I'm gay. Everyone around here knows that, and if they don't, I wouldn't have a problem telling them right to their face. I hope I'm defined by something more than just 'the gay kid' or 'one of the gay kids'. I guess I don't feel the need to be obvious any longer. Maybe I didn't need to be so confrontational ever, but, still, I wouldn't do anything different if given the chance."

Mercedes' face finally surrendered a smile; Rachel smiled wide and excited-looking herself.

 

**Friday April 20**

David had returned from his morning run and eaten breakfast with his parents. Paul had gone to the office; and Lorraine was back to her regular schedule of leaving the house before eight o'clock to stop at the realty office where she sifted through the previous day's phone messages and organized meetings for the agents: she usually met a group of friends for late-morning coffee and was back home by early afternoon.

Rupert arrived precisely at eight o'clock and sat with David at the dining room table where David had arranged his school items.

"First things first," Rupert began. "Mr. Williams was impressed with your Oral History project, and 'impressed' is really not a sufficient word to describe his opinion of it. Each year, he enters the best of his students' projects to the Society for Modern History. Yours was one of two he submitted to them this year."

"Um," David began, "what does that mean?"

Rupert answered directly. "The Society for Modern History gives out awards and recognition each year to what it considers to be the best student work of that year. It includes work that people have done on their own as well as things like projects for high school history classes. I personally didn't get a chance to look at your project beyond handing over the work to Mr. Williams two days ago, but he is very enthusiastic about your project. Needless to say, you aced your AP History final."

David smiled. "One down, five to go."

 

* * *

 

Kurt's phone rang as he was just getting comfortable on the couch, awaiting plans for his regular Friday evening reunion with his dad and Carole.

"Hello, David," Kurt voiced, cheerful as ever.

"Hey, Kurt. What's going on?"

"Really nothing. Pre-Friday-night-festivities boredom: downtime before all the excitement. You?"

"Johnno and Gretchen were getting together some people to go check out some nasty extreme-horror movie tonight. I was going to go along. You wanna go?"

"I don't know if 'nasty extreme-horror movies' are my thing, David." Kurt sounded dismissive.

"Well, they're not _my_ thing either, but it could potentially be fun with a big crowd." A silence passed over the phone. "Aw, c'mon, Kurt. We'll have a great time. You know you like Gretchen and Johnno."

"Okay, what's the name of this cinematic milestone?"

"Uh, something called _The Human Centrifuge, Part IV: the Domination_."

Kurt burst into laughter after a few seconds of registering the title. David laughed in response to Kurt's laughter.

"Okay," Kurt agreed. "I can't pass that up for its title alone. What's the plan, then, David?"

"I could pick you up at, like, six or six-thirty. The movie is at seven-thirty at the old movie-house near the Lima OSU campus."

Kurt laughed again. "I'll let Finn know and leave a message for my dad that I'll be going out. I don't want to be out late though."

"Definitely not," David agreed. "We'll be running bright-and-early tomorrow."

Kurt shook his head. " _The Human Centrifuge_ : who thinks this garbage up?"

"I don't know, but I want that job," David snickered. "The more disturbing thing is that there are four parts to this saga and the latest one is titled 'The Domination'."

Both boys laughed heartily in unison.

 

* * *

 

It was just before nine-thirty when the large crowd of friends exited the theater with the rest of the young, mostly college-age, people who were in attendance. Gretchen and Johnno were holding hands, cheerful, seemingly unfazed by the film. Corey and Angela were giggling with Randy. Terri was with Randy, but seemed put-off by the film they'd just seen. Chris Strando, a last-second addition to the group was bumping shoulders with David as they walked, nearly whooping over the insanity of the movie while David laughed agreement. Kurt was walking closely on the other side of David, smiling, admitting to himself that he had, in fact, had a pretty incredible time.

"That movie was awesome," Chris volunteered.

"Dude," David countered, "you were sitting next to me, and I thought you were gonna blow chunks a couple of times."

Kurt laughed, correcting, "The _experience_ was awesome. Definitely."

"That's what I meant," Chris chimed agreement with Kurt.

"Yeah," David agreed, "the way to get any enjoyment out of a movie like that is to watch it with a group of people who can agree that they're watching crap."

The entire group stopped as they approached David's truck which was parked near Johnno's car.

"So, what are we up to now?" Randy asked while his girlfriend Terri seemed eager to leave.

Kurt gave a mischievous grin. "We could all go to Moo-La-La for dessert and coffee."

"And drunk, vomiting patrons," David completed, shooting a sly grin toward Chris who deflected it by shaking his head in shame.

As the others mumbled, Kurt quietly approached Gretchen. "Hey," he asked quietly, "did you ever finish that painting I saw at the art show where I met you?"

Gretchen looked up at Kurt and answered matter-of-factly. "No. Painted over it. Destroyed it."

" _Why?_ " Kurt asked gravely and wide-eyed, shocked. "It was awesome."

Gretchen cooly replied. "It doesn't apply any longer. It was about all of the sadness and darkness and guilt I felt about Dave. The party at your house invalidated all of those feelings." Gretchen further explained. "Art is, like, a process of getting-over things sometimes. Seeing Dave so content and happy around his friends made me realize that the painting had no purpose now."

Kurt nodded agreement, understanding but somewhat disappointed.

"I think Kurt and I are heading back for the night," David explained. "We'll be getting up early to run at Faurot Park which we do with our families most Saturday mornings."

"Well," Kurt added, "David and my step-brother and I run while our parents walk."

"Oh yeah?" Chris asked, "How early?"

"We get there around seven." David replied.

"Aw, man," Chris countered, "I got a case of beer back at home, and I was hoping you'd have a few with me."

David smiled. "Another time, Chris. We gotta be on our way."

With that, David and Kurt bid their farewells to the others, climbed into David's truck, and drove through the crowded streets of the college-town back to the residential calm of their homes.

David's truck slowed to a halt in the driveway at Kurt's house slightly past ten o'clock, and Kurt smiled through a yawn as he prepared to exit David's truck. "Thank you for asking me along," Kurt spoke, a smile on his face and direct focus on David's. "It was a fun time."

"Even if you did need some convincing," David nodded with a slight smile of his own.

"I'm going to get inside," Kurt said. "Long day today. See you early tomorrow."

David smiled more widely and nodded. "Have a good night, Kurt."

"Good night, David."

With that, Kurt climbed out of David's truck, walked to the front door of his house, and let himself inside. David's truck drove into the darkness arriving home fifteen minutes later.

 

**Saturday, April 21**

Faurot Park was glistening in the morning sun, appearing freshly maintained, when the Hummels and Karofskys arrived for their morning visit. The parents were well on their way walking the park roadway leaving Kurt, Sam, Finn, and David to prepare for their run when another car pulled into the lot and parked. The car doors opened and Johnno, Randy, Corey, and Chris exited; Chris was tossing a football in his hands. David greeted them with with an expression of interested surprise.

"What's up, guys? What are you doing here?"

"We took your mention of this last night as an invitation to get a pick-up game of football going," Chris said, an inviting grin on his face. "You up for that?"

David looked back at Kurt, Finn, and Sam. Only Kurt appeared reluctant. "I'm cool with that." David said with some hesitancy in his voice. He walked over to Kurt and spoke quietly. "You're in, right?"

"Aw, David, I don't play football," Kurt answered, sounding deflated.

"Oh, c'mon," David urged at a quiet volume, "You were on the Titans in your sophomore year."

"I was the kicker, and I kicked _once_ , David," Kurt replied, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but you were _great_ at it," David spoke, undeterred as Kurt's face moped. "This is totally informal and unstructured. We're basically gonna toss the ball and run around like idiots. We're not even gonna keep score or anything. It's _fun_. I know you can run." Kurt remained unconvinced. "Aw, c'mon," David's voice became nearly a quiet whine with his eyes pleading, a near puppy-dog expression which Kurt had never seen grace David's face, an expression which was ultimately impossible for Kurt to resist.

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Okay, I'm in," he reluctantly agreed.

Corey, having overheard the exchange between David and Kurt approached Kurt and spoke. "Hey, I'm no good at this either. My strategy is to basically avoid contact with the ball."

Kurt shot a cynical expression back to Corey. "Isn't that counter to the entire object of the game?"

"Yeah," Corey answered, "but at least I won't get tackled." Kurt seemed intrigued while Corey proposed a plan. "How about this? You cover me. If I get the ball and I'm fairly far away from you, you let me run it for a touchdown. If I'm close enough for you to catch me, you just, like, grab my shoulder, and I'll fall pretending like you tackled me. I'll do the same for you. Deal?"

Kurt smiled with some trace of suspicion but ultimately agreed. "Deal."

They formed into teams of the McKinley guys Finn, Sam, Chris, and Kurt against the Thurston boys Randy, Johnno, David, and Corey. After about five minutes of play, Kurt realized that, beyond one team kicking the ball off to the other team every four plays or so, there was absolutely no structure to what was occurring. And, yes, Kurt was amused by the proceedings.

At one point, Kurt watched as Sam, running the ball, was tackled by Randy; then Chris jumped and landed himself atop the two of them seeming to accomplish nothing. "I've seen Chris do that earlier," Kurt spoke to David who was nearby. "Why does Chris do that when the tackle has already happened?"

David smirked. "Um, you kinda need to be involved in something like that to get it. It's just that there's some kinda charge you get out of the physical contact."

Kurt continued to stare, shaking his head slightly, as the three boys picked themselves up. "I might be inclined to agree with you if Chris was, maybe, two-thirds or half the size that he is."

"Yeah, I will grant you that Chris maybe isn't fully aware of the impact of his weight, but he's not out to hurt anyone," David reassured.

The game continued in more unstructured-but-good-natured chaos. Johnno quarterbacked for the Thurston boys while Finn and Sam switched the quarterback role between themselves as their whim of the moment dictated.

Sam snapped the ball to himself to begin a play as Kurt, Finn, and Chris took to the field covered by Corey, David, and Randy respectively leaving Johnno to rush at Sam. Corey slipped to the ground seconds after the snap and Johnno was putting pressure on Sam. Sam thought to run the ball, but instead threw a panicked but perfect lob to Kurt who was uncovered. Kurt caught the ball perfectly with both arms as if were a baby dropping from the sky. Without hesitation Kurt began to run.

David took after him, a few wide steps away. "Kurt, I hafta tackle you," he said loudly enough for Kurt to hear, a wide-eyed, worried expression on his face.

"You'll need to catch me first," Kurt replied, unbending.

David huffed, speaking under his breath, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

David sprang three of the widest strides he could manage and reached his arm around Kurt's far shoulder, pulling Kurt toward him, dropping himself to the ground and taking Kurt with him, allowing his body to break Kurt's fall while bracing Kurt's other shoulder with his free hand as gently as he could. David closed his eyes tightly as he felt himself impact the ground. As he opened his eyes, he saw Kurt with a grin on his face, football still gripped tightly in his arms.

"David, you big dork," Kurt muttered as David chuckled and looked up at the field ahead to see Chris running full-force, preparing to dive on both of them.

"Oh, fuck, hit the ground!" David spat out as rolled Kurt off and covered him, bracing for the imminent impact of Chris. David closed his eyes as he felt Chris land on top of his back, opening them to see Kurt's face. He thought at first that Kurt was wearing a grimace of pain until he became aware that it was instead a wide smile and Kurt was laughing.

David pushed Chris off of himself and sat up. Chris reached his hand out to Kurt, helping him back to his feet. "Good catch," Chris complimented. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kurt answered, still laughing. David knew Kurt was unharmed but was relieved to hear Kurt chuckle over the event.

The parents had returned to their cars to see the group of boys on the field near the parking lot. Kurt, Finn, and David met their parents at the edge of the lot while Paul spoke.

"Hey, looks like you kids are having fun. We don't want to intrude on that, so I'll drive Mr. and Mrs. Hummell to breakfast and then we'll leave them back at their house as long as Kurt's okay with driving David home."

Kurt nodded with a hint of a smile on his face, sweatshirt dishevelled and hair in slight disarray. Burt might normally be alarmed, but Kurt appeared quite content. "No problem, Mr. Karofsky. I'm sure we'll be going for breakfast after this as well," Kurt replied.

The group of boys returned to the field and continued their unstructured game while Burt's eyes lingered on the action for a moment, confounded but pleasantly intrigued, before returning his attention to the other adults.

The parents climbed into Paul's car and left for the diner as the boys continued their game for a short while, finally succumbing to exhaustion and hunger. Kurt drove himself, Sam, Finn, and David to a fast-food restaurant while the car containing the other boys followed.

The boys seated themselves with their food at two tables in the dining area of the restaurant. Kurt and David sat across from each other at a small table while the other six boys occupied a much larger table which seated six people.

Kurt was eating a breakfast sandwich consisting of scrambled egg product, gooey cheese, and sausage on an English muffin. "You can tell I'm ravenous," Kurt voiced between bites, "this barely qualifies as food and I'm eating it."

David shot a crooked grin back at Kurt in response while the boys at the other table spoke loudly recounting the morning's game, the week's events, or school-related concerns.

"So," Kurt began, "anything planned for the rest of the day?"

David shook his head. "No, nothing on my agenda immediately except getting out of these clothes and cleaned-up. Truthfully, with all of my major school work done until finals, I was probably going to be bored unless Mom and Dad have something planned for me when I get home."

"Same here," Kurt offered. "It's still early in the day. Anything Dad and Carole have planned will probably be for later. Besides, they could still be at the Dining Car having breakfast with your parents for all we know."

David smiled and nodded. "Like you've been saying for a couple of weeks, it's been a while since we just hung out. You wanna drop Finn and Sam off at your place and then stop for a while at my place?"

This brought an immediate smile to Kurt's face. "You read my mind. I didn't want to suggest anything for fear of seeming like I was inviting myself."

"Aw, c'mon, Kurt," David said through a laugh, "we're friends; you can lose a little bit of the etiquette around me."

The boys finished their breakfast and departed the restaurant in two cars. As per the earlier discussion, Kurt left Sam and Finn at the Hummel home then drove himself and David to the Karofsky residence. David's parents had arrived home some time before Kurt and David arrived, but a quick exchange between David and his parents revealed that they had no immediate plans for the day. David retrieved two bottles of sports-drink from the refrigerator and both he and Kurt climbed the stairs for David's bedroom.

Kurt seated himself in the chair at the far corner of David's bedroom while David sat in his desk chair, pulling it away from the desk and closer to Kurt's side of the room.

"So, am I going to get to hear the audio part of your History project someday?" Kurt began, breaking the relative silence.

David shook his head slightly. "Sure, but I'd prefer not right now today. I'm burned-out on it. I mean, I think it's really pretty good, but I've heard it, like, probably a hundred times in the past two weeks. I hear it in my sleep at this point. Sound editing is really torturous, grueling work."

Kurt chuckled. "No, it doesn't need to be right now. I'd just like to hear it sometime."

"You'll hear it soon, I promise."

Kurt smiled and there was a brief silence until he spoke again. "I had a really good time this morning. You were right about there being a kind-of mindless fun to the physical aspect of the game. Thank you, David."

David appeared puzzled. "Thank me for _what_?"

"For including me," Kurt replied quietly but firmly.

David smiled somewhat crookedly. "We're friends. Of course I'm going to include you."

"Well, it doesn't happen often. I'm not the most masculine guy ever, and that's an understatement, and I know it. Sure, I may have always been more interested in, um, _girly_ things than most guys are, or maybe more than boys are supposed to be; but, sometimes I wonder, after getting picked last for every game in elementary school gym class, did I maybe just associate with the girls at school recess because I actually wanted to, or did it happen by default? And then, did I cop an attitude and make myself think I was above all of the stereotypical boy stuff just because no one ever cared to include me in the first place?"

David was somewhat taken aback. Not only didn't he have an answer, but he knew full-well he'd have almost certainly been inclined to exclude a young Kurt in an elementary-school setting. "Geeze, Kurt, that's heavy; and I don't know if I have any kind of answers for that."

"I wasn't expecting an answer. I was kind-of being rhetorical or hypothetical or something. Just thinking out loud." Kurt was silent for a moment before speaking again. "You treat me like a guy, David."

David smiled, "You _are_ a guy, Kurt."

"Yeah, tell that to Blaine," Kurt rolled his eyes.

" _What_?" David asked quietly as if unsure of what he'd just heard.

"Nothing, forget it," Kurt cast his gaze toward the floor, eventually bringing it back up to rest on a worn paperback book on David's nightstand. The spine was creased in several places and the cover was bent outward at the corners and dog-eared as if read and re-read many times.

_Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus_ by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

"Have you read this?" Kurt asked, pointing at the book.

"Yeah, well, actually, I'm reading it right now," David answered. "I'm probably about two-thirds done with it. It's, like, Johnno's favorite book, and, well, after you and I watched that Frankenstein movie a while back, I saw it at the library at the community college on a used-book sale shelf and bought it. It reads really fast, and the language is really beautiful. And I don't use that word very often."

Kurt smiled and the room was silent again for a short span of time.

"About a week ago, you said I was sexy," David spoke quietly. "Did you mean that?"

"When did I say that?" Kurt sounded self-conscious.

"Well, you didn't exactly say it in so many words, but I told you how Sean was suddenly sexy or something and you said that the same could apply to me."

Kurt smiled. "I remember now. Yes, David, you're sexy." Kurt returned to silence.

"C'mon, the answer can't be that easy. _How_ am I sexy?" David smirked, very interested in whatever answer Kurt would provide.

Kurt looked up and addressed David's face. "You're sexy when you're showing how smart you are. When you're explaining something and you're not being smug or conceited but you're confident in what you're saying. _That's_ sexy." This forced a chuckle and wider smile out of David as Kurt furthered. "You're sexy when you're being funny. You're not funny often, but when you are, it's really pretty amazing. Also, that thing outside the restaurant after the karaoke thing a few weeks back with those three idiots in the parking lot? That was sexy in a way I can't even put into words, David. I mean, that was you being funny and smart and tough all for the right reasons."

David blushed and faced toward the floor, a huge smile on his face.

"The way you played the responsible friend, putting Blaine up for the night despite his less-than-stellar behavior? _That_ was sexy." Kurt paused for a moment before adding, "And Blaine was so clueless."

"Are you _still_ harping about that karaoke thing?"

"No, just in general. Sometimes I think the only person that Blaine ever thought was sexy was himself."

"Ouch!" David grumbled. "You dated him. That's gotta be bad for, like, both of you."

Kurt shook his head. "You remember that time you interviewed him for your project?"

"Yeah?"

"And afterward, he was teaching you how to box?"

David nodded.

" _That_ was sexy," Kurt stated.

"I could tell that you thought so," David smiled on the edge of a laugh.

"Yes, see, that's how it worked. _I_ saw it, and _you_ saw me react to it, but Blaine was _clueless_."

There was silence again as David's smile subsided and Kurt's expression became thoughtful. "You're a sexy-looking guy too, David."

"You think so?" David's expression was serious.

Kurt nodded. "You're handsome and you have a great smile. What's not sexy about that."

David had to look away at this point, but he spoke, somewhat muffled. "Thank you for all of the compliments."

"Thank you for an excellent Saturday morning, David. I should be going, though. I'm sure I'm missing something crucial that my parents have planned." Kurt stood up and walked slowly toward the door. David stood as well and Kurt stopped short of the door. "Um, is it my imagination, or has that raspy sound that was in your voice gone away?"

David answered. "No, I think it has. When I started running in the morning, it seemed to start to go away then. Maybe all of the breathing while I was running opened something up. I haven't noticed it in a while."

Kurt smiled at David as he reached for the door. "I need to get home and changed out of these sweaty clothes anyway."

"Yeah, that's next on my list of things to do after you leave."

David walked Kurt to the front door. "You can give a call later, or, just see you at the park tomorrow morning?" David said quietly.

"Talk later probably. See you tomorrow morning definitely." Kurt smiled through his reply. "Breakfast will be at the Hummel-Hudson house after." 

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 7,500  
> The links in this chapter are not clickable. Not even I am that thorough.

**Chapter 31**

 

**Monday, April 23**

"Good afternoon, David." Kurt spoke, effervescent, into his phone.

"Hey, Kurt," David's voice answered. "How was school today?"

"School was fine. Nothing much to report except that things will get really busy for me starting next week."

"Yeah, that's my week this week, I think. Rupert has a bunch of tests to give me this week, then, the beginning of next week, I go to Thurston for a couple of days to complete my final exams. For me, this week is going to be tests, studying, more tests, cramming, weekend, finals in that order."

"Will you be alright with going back there? Back to Thurston?"

"It's only for two days, and, even then, only for as long as it takes for me to complete the finals," David explained. "I'm also coming to the understanding that I have some leverage here. They will have me in a room with just Rupert, and he'll be administering the final exams as given to him that day by my teachers. This is for all except the Phys Ed final, for which I'll be going in early Tuesday before classes even begin. The Phys Ed coach is being really cool about it."

Kurt thought about the arrangement and spoke. "It sounds like they've gone through some trouble to accommodate you."

"That's what I meant when I said that I had some leverage," David responded. "No school wants to be stuck with the stigma of an attempted student suicide. If they even think I'm gonna cry foul on something, they'll bend over backward for me, apparently."

"That's pretty awesome," Kurt responded, an almost wicked tone to his delivery.

"Yeah, but I still am gonna work hard to ace all of my finals," David explained. "A couple of the colleges I applied to are waiting on my final grades. They saw that my SAT scores were really good, but my academic record at McKinley was not quite up to the level they wanted. The sooner I get those final transcripts out to them, the better."

"Your finals are, like, a full two weeks before mine," Kurt observed. "Why is that?"

"I don't know, but it's kind-of a good thing for me," David answered. "I think Thurston started a week earlier than McKinley did."

"Well, whatever the reason, I believe, David, that you are going to absolutely kill on your finals because you are an incredibly smart guy."

David laughed as he responded. "Thanks, Kurt."

"David, you don't need my encouragement," Kurt laughed in his response also. "You are fantastic at motivating yourself, but you're welcome, just the same."

There was silence before David spoke again. "You've nudged me along a few times. Kicked me in the butt once or twice."

"Oh, I have not," Kurt replied loudly, sassily.

"Yep, yes you have," David's voice was smooth and calm. "But that's maybe a discussion for some other time."

"Well, I should probably get going, David," Kurt began after a brief, comfortable silence. "I wanted to drive out to the music store and maybe see if I could get any more ideas for my audition song."

"I thought you had that settled on a song from _Phantom of the Opera_ or something," David countered.

"Well, I know that song like the back of my hand, but, it's just so overdone," Kurt replied. "I'm hoping to come across something that's more, like, current and more, like, me."

"That's not anything I'm up on or anything I'd have an opinion about, so I can't give you any ideas there," David spoke in a low, reluctant tone. "I do know that, the times I've heard you sing, you own whatever you're doing. You could take a song that everybody's heard too often and do it very well, I'm sure; but I have no doubt that you could find something less familiar, maybe something iconic even, something that people might think shouldn't be messed with, and shred the hell out of it. Whether they like it or not, they won't forget it, and you'll have made it your own."

Kurt grinned at this. "David, that was very useful to me, whether you realize it or not."

"That's cool," David spoke through a chuckle. "Glad I could give you some useful if unwitting advice. I don't want to hold you back further, and I have dinner pending here. Have a good evening, Kurt."

"You too, David. Goodbye."

 

**Wednesday, April 25**

"Hey, Kurt, What's going on? David spoke quietly into his phone, a polite, late-night greeting.

"Good evening, David. Just calling to see how things are going since last we talked."

"For me? Tests, tests, studying, more studying, some working out in between, and eating a few times a day. That's my life until about this time next week."

"Nothing fun? No down-time?" Kurt asked with slight concern.

"Ah, I talked to Strando and Sean a couple of times," David replied. "Sean is busy with studying for finals, same as me. Once all the pressure's off, it'll be better, I'm sure. Gretchen is planning an informal post-commencement get-together at her place. It'll be on the ninth. I'm sure you could come if you wanted."

"The ninth? That's, like, a whole two weeks before the McKinley commencement. How did that happen?"

"I don't know, Kurt, just the way it happened, I guess. Like I said, Thurston started a full week before McKinley did in the fall." David paused for a moment. "Hey, how have things been with you? Did you find a song that suits you for your audition?"

"Well, yes, actually I did, well, maybe. I need to be sure I'm confident enough with it to pull it off."

"What is it?"

"It's a song called 'Not the Boy Next Door' from _The Boy From Oz_."

"Okay, you just completely lost me, but, title alone? It's you, Kurt."

Kurt laughed aloud. "Oh, yeah? How so?"

"Um, just judging by my _own_ next-door neighbors, you're totally from another world; and that's definitely a good thing."

"Well, I don't want to hold you back from studying, David," Kurt said, sounding apologetic.

"Nah, this is probably the most fun I'll have all week until, like, Saturday morning when we get together to run again."

"So, does your tutor still visit when all you're really doing is studying?"

"Yeah, he has this really cool technique of, like, helping me to study," David replied, sounding animated suddenly. "He'll, like, mix up questions from all of my subjects and just kinda throw them at me randomly. At first, my head was spinning after about five minutes of it, but the more often he'd do this, the sharper I became. It's, like, I'm not locked into one area of thought, and it makes the whole process more digestible. Studying is not so mundane that way."

"Sounds like it's actually kind-of fun; a _weird_ kind-of fun," Kurt commented back.

"It's definitely not a conventional method of study, but it works. He says he can't use it for everyone because for a few different reasons, but it's working well for me."

"Well, the more I've come to know you, the more I realize that not only are you smart, but you're also pretty aware and perceptive," Kurt said. "It doesn't surprise me that you adapt well to radical study techniques."

David laughed at the assessment. "So, how are the rehearsals going for the National show-choir contest?"

"Well, we're rehearsing, like, non-stop, and the tension can get pretty bad between the members," Kurt spoke. "Thank you for asking," Kurt added finding himself surprised that he didn't find it odd that David asked about the Glee Club.

"I know it's important to you, and I know how hard you people work on that. And, yeah, I still feel like kicking myself for being so bad to you people when I could have been supportive. Not that I'd have ever joined or anything, but I could have had some influence over the way you people were treated."

"David," Kurt dragged the last syllable out as if scolding him. "We've been through this before; you can stop kicking yourself."

"I didn't say I _was_ kicking myself," David laughed. "I said I still _feel like_ kicking myself. Anyway, where is the national thing this year?"

"Chicago. We're leaving Friday the fourth. The actual event is on Saturday the fifth. We'll be returning Monday."

"Well, I'm sure I'll be wishing you the best many times between then and now, but, just so you know, and you can tell anyone else there who cares, I am hoping you people bring home a win for McKinley."

"Thank you, David," Kurt spoke after a silent moment, sounding actually touched. "I really should get to sleep, and I'm sure you need to conserve your energy for your studies."

"Yeah," David sounded both disappointed at the conversation's end and engagingly wistful. "Okay. Good night, Kurt."

Kurt held back a hint of a giggle as he smiled. "Good night, David."

 

**Friday, April 27**

Rupert, as usual, arrived at eight o'clock precisely. David took his seat at the dining room table with his school materials though they were rarely needed at this time. All of the time Rupert spent with David consisted of preparing for David's final exams. This day, though, unlike the previous three, began with Rupert making an announcement, of sorts.

"Dave, the Society for Modern History has given your project its highest honor, one of four projects this year to receive this distinction." As Rupert completed the sentence, David's eyes opened wide in surprise, but his expression didn't change otherwise. "This is really good, David. The award comes with a grant for your continued education."

David spoke quietly, slightly stunned, the information still not having fully registered. "Um, are there any conditions, like, does my further education need to be in a certain area of study?"

"No, but it's typical that you'll get some offers from historical organizations or particular schools which will want you to study with them. Given your preference to pursue a math major, you can look at these offers. Some of them may offer you full scholarships, but conditions may apply in those cases. Otherwise, regardless of which college you decide to attend, and which colleges accept you, the grant will be applicable. It won't cover your entire college education, but it will be a good start. A really good start. Solid."

"Wow," David's face still didn't betray any emotion other than surprise, "That is incredible news."

"Yes," Rupert continued, "the SMH website has posted articles about the recognized projects. You can check that out later, but we have some studying to do after I shake your hand and congratulate you."

David stood, his face finally succumbing to a dazed smile as he extended his right hand and Rupert shook it firmly. "Congratulations, Dave."

The morning and early afternoon hours seemed to expire at an incredible speed. Rupert's random questions aimed at preparing David for his final exams were answered nearly perfectly and precisely; but he could remember little once Rupert departed at two o'clock. Lorraine was jubilant and proud when informed of David's achievement. David called Paul at his office and was greeted by similar exuberance.

Eventually, David retired to his bedroom, booting his laptop to view the Society for Modern History website. He easily found the list of the current honorees and was further humbled to find an entire page devoted to his project. He scanned the article and found links to both the text and the audio portions of his project at the bottom of the page. He almost instinctively clicked the audio link, and the audio began immediately. Even though he'd heard it too many times to count while he was constructing and editing the piece, it all sounded new. About two minutes into the playback, he felt his heart drop in a blind panic. He reached for his cell phone and sent a text message immediately.

 

* * *

 

Sean had just left his last class for the week and was approaching his locker when he heard the text alert on his phone.

David: _Sean, I need to talk to you asap._ 2:38PM

Sean was puzzled at the message as Gretchen approached his locker with Johnno.

"Hey, Sean," Gretchen greeted in her usual manner. "What's going on?"

"Um, I just got a text from Dave," he answered. "Seems urgent or something."

"Oh," Gretchen voiced as Johnno shot an expression of concern, "wonder what's up."

"I don't know, but I drove myself to school today," Sean answered. "I'll give him a call before I leave; maybe stop at his place on the way home to see what's so important."

"Well, we're outta here," Gretchen said, concern still apparent in her voice. "If it's anything, like, severe, let me know, okay."

"Yeah, definitely," Sean answered. "Later, you two."

"Later, Sean," Johnno said as Gretchen waved, walking slowly away.

Sean arrived at his car and pulled out his phone, dialing David's number.

"Hey, Sean," David huffed, sounding anxious.

"Hey, Dave," Sean answered, "what's going on?"

"I need to talk to you, like, now."

"Um, I'm leaving school. Do you want me to stop over at your place?"

"Yeah, if you want to, that's cool."

"Okay, Dave, see you in a few."

"Okay, see you soon, Sean."

Sean ended the conversation, slightly worried by David's tone.

He arrived at David's house to find David waiting for his arrival at the front door. David greeted Sean quickly, then led him upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Dave, man, what's wrong?" Sean spoke, worried.

"Um, my History project. Mr. Williams entered it to a Historical Society thing and they gave it an award."

"Dave, that's awesome," Sean said, completely puzzled.

"Yeah, but, um, the audio portion is up on their website," David explained. "You filled out the release form, but you didn't want anonymity. Anyone who knows you and hears you on the audio identifying yourself as 'Sean" is gonna know it's you. I've accidentally outed you."

Sean was silent, seating himself in David's desk chair.

"I'm so sorry, Sean. I didn't think anyone other than me and Mr. Williams and, maybe, ten other people were gonna hear this thing." David's face paled.

"So what?" Sean finally said.

"Huh?" David uttered, looking confused.

"I said, 'so what?'" Sean repeated. "Dave, anyone who I care about already knows and is cool with it. Anyone else can fuck off."

David shook his head, relieved but still somewhat shaken.

"Listen, Dave, I'm okay with it," Sean expanded. "Maybe it's not what I planned; but my friends are good with me, and my family is good with me. If anyone has a problem with me, I don't care. The people who are important to me are with me. If anyone has anything to say to me at this point, bring it on."

David's face relaxed to a dazed smile. "Sean, man, you're tough."

Sean's face addressed David's directly. "I gotta be. I learned from the best."

 

* * *

 

Kurt had just finished dinner with Finn and the weekly reunion of Burt and Carole before retiring to his bedroom and switching on his laptop to check his email. Among the most recent messages was one from David which bore an emphatic subject line: "THIS IS NOT SPAM".

Kurt wouldn't have assumed any message from David's address to be spam. In fact, he rarely received email from David. When opened, the message itself proved to be enigmatic.

_Kurt,_  
 _Click on the link below. I assure you that this is not spam, pornography, or a plushie-appreciation website. Just to prove that I am who I say I am, we're running tomorrow morning, you're leaving for the National competition in Chicago a week from today, and you're considering changing your audition song from something I've probably never heard to something I've never even heard of. This is legit.  
_ _David_

Kurt shook his head with a smirk: " _Plushie-appreciation website?_ " David's sense of humor was revealing itself as progressively stranger as it became more familiar. Kurt clicked the link which opened a page to the Society for Modern History website.

 

* * *

 

_Title:_ __**Population 38,771: Multiple Views on the Gay Experience**  
 _Author: David Karofsky, Thurston High School, Lima, Ohio_  
 _Project type: Oral History  
_ _Media: Edited Audio: 24 minutes; Text: 29,500 words; Full Interview Audio: 189 minutes_

_Of the Society's four selected projects for 2012, David Karofsky's_ _**Population 38,771: Multiple Views on the Gay Experience** _ _is potentially the most personal. We use the word 'potentially' because it doesn't present itself as an especially personal work; but given the story of its author, it cannot be anything but personal._

_Stories of peer-bullying and teen suicide, particularly within the young LGBT population, are regular occurrences: rarely does a week pass without such a story (or multiple stories) reaching national news avenues. Rather than their frequency having a desensitizing effect, it seems that the opposite has occurred. Emotional video suicide notes and sympathetic public-service videos from celebrities continue to flood the media landscape. Despite the outreach to troubled youth, the trend does not seem to have abated._

_David Karofsky could have been one such statistic. He was the most unlikely of victims: athletic, popular, and intelligent. His peers turned on him_ en masse _, but he lived to tell about it. However, rather than create yet another 'It Gets Better' message in oral-history form, Mr. Karofsky instead chose to present an objective work: a voice of reason which ultimately rises above the unending number of emotional pleas which are so often discounted for their coddling nature and lack of immediate promised results. The resounding message, if there is one, seems to be, 'We're here so deal with it.' If Karofsky is bitter about his experience, it really doesn't show. The project seeks to empower rather than coddle. To say that this arrives at the exact right time in the social landscape is accurate._

_The project's title is a reference to the population of Lima, a small city in Northwest Ohio. The interviews were conducted with residents living in and around the Lima and surrounding Allen County areas. Among the interviewees are several teens of the author's own peer group, a same-sex married couple of of over two decades who raised a daughter, a single sexagenarian, a closeted family man who lost his family in the outing process, and an active-duty member of the US military who has experienced both the before and after sides of the don't-ask-don't-tell era._

_The text portion of the project is exhaustive and could stand alone as a published work. The research is minimal, but that's to the project's benefit. Karofsky knows what he's writing about and gives that same credit to the reader. Instead of repeating historical facts which have been heard and repeated hundreds of times in such projects, Karofsky highlights the words of the interviewees. The older participants provide the necessary background with their words, and the younger voices bring the current perspective: the trials of a same-sex union as a nuclear family, the decades of shocking history provided by an older man which seem downright medieval given the half-century of progress which we take for granted, the various experiences of the teen interviewees which range from the expected peer-abuse to proactive defense measures to achieving a higher understanding of one's self through voluntarily coming out to friends and family. The author takes the stand as well, telling his own story in a raw, unflinching manner, but he never seems to expect undue sympathy._

_The centerpiece of the work, however, is the edited audio portion. Rather than straightforward interview excerpts, Karofsky created a sound-collage. Here, the voices tell, as if in a round-table discussion, poignant pieces of their various stories. First-hand, we hear harrowing stories of deprogramming procedures, a couple's rise above the status of social lepers in their community, the heartbreaking story of a man's destroyed family, the confrontational attitudes of an out teen lesbian and her bisexual girlfriend, a military man's unexpected-but-welcome acceptance among his fellow enlistees, a teen who suffered physical abuse and chose to pursue formal self-defense training, the the bright voice of a young man recounting peer abuse and ultimately unflinching pride, and one young man who states that, since he has come out, he has never felt more comfortable among his family and friends. If the older voices reveal hardship, seclusion, and struggle, the younger voices, appropriately telling stories of being public with their identities, bring the project to its fitting conclusion and objective message._

_The piece ultimately focuses on the various aspects of being both gay and public about it. Perhaps its strongest passage comes from the author himself._

_"From the people I have spoken with and my own experience, I can say this: when someone comes out voluntarily, of their own volition, they retain control of their situation; when someone is outed by their peers, they lose that control."_

_Cautionary words perhaps, but also also an appeal to the strength of the undecided. In the spirit of objectivity, it's not the words themselves which matter but that which the audience does with those words._

The full text portion of the project can be accessed here.  
The edited audio of the project can be heard here.

_Update: Friday, April 27, 4:25PM EST_

_The weekly Public Radio show_ The Way Out _has expressed interest in airing the edited audio portion of this project. Watch this space for further updates._

 

* * *

 

David's phone sounded at just after ten o'clock. He'd been expecting a phone call from Kurt.

"Hey, Kurt," David smiled pensively through his answer.

"David! That is amazing! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," David laughed respectfully. "So, I take it you got my email."

"Yes! David! This is _huge_!"

"I don't know if it's huge, but it's definitely very cool. I'm happy about it."

" _Happy about it?_ "

"Okay. Understatement, but something like that."

"I don't know what else to say, David. This is awesome."

"Thanks again," David paused for a moment. "Um, I don't have Blaine's email. Could you forward it to him? I mean, I'm sure he'll want to see it."

"Absolutely, David. I'll do that right now while I'm on my email."

The two were silent for a time while Kurt forwarded the message to Blaine. Then silent a while longer.

"Um, so, I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning at the park?" David spoke finally.

"Yes, I'll be there."

They were silent again. Breathing.

"It's getting late, Kurt," David said, "I should let you get to sleep."

"Okay, David. Good night."

"Good night, Kurt."

 

**Monday, April 30**

"Hello, Kurt," David spoke into his phone.

"Good afternoon, David."

"Did you just get in from school?"

"Yes. How was your first day of final exams?"

David cleared his throat. "It was, kinda... , weird. And exhausting."

Kurt's voice sounded puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"Well, Rupert came here at seven-thirty and drove me out to the school. It's like, it was strict: I had to arrive with Rupert. He had to be present with me the whole time. We were in an empty office where I took my exams. It was in a part of the school I never knew existed. Just weird. The teachers would come by regularly to pick up the exams after I was finished."

"How long were you there?"

"Until about eleven o'clock. Three exams, three hours."

"Do you think you did well on your exams?"

"Yes, but it was, like, a concentrated pounding of my brain or something. When I arrived home, I took one of my legendary power-naps. I've been up for about an hour, but my head is still foggy."

"So," Kurt held the word out, "how many more do you need to take?"

"Well, only one really. I'm not counting my Phys Ed final. I'm going to get to the school at six AM tomorrow for that, before the other students arrive. Then back to that secluded office at eight for the last actual written final." David paused for a moment before asking, "How was school for you today?"

"Pretty uneventful. Tomorrow is my audition for NYADA."

"Are you nervous about it?" David asked, a quiet, serious tone in his voice.

"Truthfully, yes. Rachel is less nervous. She and Blaine want me to do that song from _Phantom_ , but my instinct is telling me to do the other one."

"Um, why do they want you to do the one from _Phantom_?"

Kurt exhaled loudly. "Because it's less of a risk."

"Dude, I think you should go with your gut," David offered. "If this song from _Phantom_ is something that's been played out to death, and you think this other song, new as it might be to you, is something you can pull off, I think you should take the risk. But then, I don't know this territory, and I don't want to give you bad advice. I know this is important to you."

"David, not only is your advice credible to me, but it's become moreso given the reception of your History project," Kurt confided. "Unfortunately, you're right, you don't know the territory; but you do know the situation. I might just wait until tomorrow to decide what I'm going to perform."

"Hey, speaking of my project, your dad was pretty stoked about it," David remarked. "He was shaking my hand so vigorously when he congratulated me Saturday morning that I thought he was gonna take my arm off."

Kurt laughed. "My dad likes it when good things happen to his friends. He likes you, David."

David chuckled. "I'm sure you had something to do with that."

"Initially, yes," Kurt explained. "But, no, you've won him over. He likes your parents, and he likes you, David."

"Yeah, well, that's cool," David smiled. "I'm not afraid of him any longer. Not too afraid, that is."

"Oh, come on, David. My dad isn't scary."

"You're dad's great, Kurt. That doesn't mean that his intensity isn't fear-inducing." David remarked. "Hey, listen, hate to cut this short, but I can hear mom calling me for dinner. If we don't talk later, I'll catch you tomorrow."

"Okay, goodbye, David."

"Hey, one more thing," David interjected. "You're gonna kick the ass outta your audition tomorrow."

"Um, are you asking or telling?" Kurt spoke, uncertain.

"Neither. I'm _knowing_ ," David said with weight in his words. "Goodbye, Kurt."

"Bye, David."

 

**Tuesday, May 1**

At four-thirty sharp, David dialed Kurt's number. Kurt answered the call, nearly a mumble.

"Hello, David."

"Hey, Kurt," David replied quietly, sensing something amiss. "What's up?" After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Everything okay?"

"Mmm, no."

"Was it your audition?" David asked as delicately as he could.

Kurt exhaled loudly into the phone. "No, it wasn't _my_ audition. I did the song from _The Boy from Oz_ , and the woman from NYADA praised me highly. She was formal and serious and all but said she loved it. It was perfect."

"Then what is it?"

"Rachel. I don't know what happened. She doesn't know what happened. She just fell apart. Couldn't sing. Stopped silent."

After a fitting silence, David spoke again. "That's terrible. I don't know what to say."

"David, she's been one of my very best friends for the last two years. She's been performing since she was, like, three years old. I don't even know how this happened." More silence passed over the phone. "She's really down on herself. We had all of these plans for her and Finn and me to go to New York, and now she's just... lost."

"Uh," David offered, "can she audition again?"

"It's really irregular. The school is really exclusive, and anything like that would be almost unheard-of."

David spoke. "I wish there was something I could do or say. I mean, I really don't know Rachel, but I do know that she lives for that stuff." David was silent before speaking again. "And I feel bad for you too. I know she's one of your best friends. I know the two of you had plans. This is a hit for both of you. And Finn. If you think it would mean anything or if it's even appropriate, tell her that I'm bummed for her."

"I don't know how appropriate that would be. I don't know how many people she actually would want to know. She's thinking she's a failure."

David shook his head and exhaled, almost sighed.

"I don't want to dwell on this," Kurt finally said. "How was your day?"

"Well," David spoke, still sounding quiet, "my finals are over, and I'm glad the pressure's off."

"How'd everything go today?"

"Well, the Phys Ed final was a cake-walk. The English Lit final was all writing, but I think I did well. I'm just relieved that it's done."

"When will you know how you did?"

"Thursday," David said. "Rupert is coming over Thursday morning to do some final stuff and get the information on the schools which are waiting for my final grades. Then, that's it for me."

"Well," Kurt spoke, "you're probably going to get called off to dinner soon."

"No, actually, my parents are taking me out to dinner tonight," David explained. "Kind-of an end-of-the-school-year thing. You wanna join us?"

"Thank you for offering, David, but, honestly, I'm too upset about Rachel right now."

David nodded. "I understand, Kurt. It's cool. You can call later if you like. I'll be around."

"Thank you. Goodbye, David."

"Goodbye, Kurt."

 

**Thursday, May 3**

David's doorbell sounded at eight o'clock announcing the arrival of Rupert. When David opened the door, however, he was surprised to see Rupert standing at his door with Mr. Williams.

"Rupert, Mr. Williams, C'mon in," David greeted as he showed the two men into the house.

"I can't be here long as I need to get back to the school," Mr. Williams announced. "Is there somewhere where we can sit down and talk?"

"Sure," David replied, "this way." He showed the two men to the family room. Mr. Williams and Rupert both sat on the couch as David sat on the edge of a chair facing them.

"Okay, here goes," Mr. Williams began. "First off, you did great on all of your final exams. You'll be graduating with honors. You could easily be graduating with high honors had your grades at McKinley been better."

David nodded.

Mr. Williams spoke again. "For the record, you are welcome to participate in the Thurston commencement. That's all I can tell you for the record."

David was silent but appeared confused.

Mr. Williams continued. " _Off_ the record, the school would rather you didn't attend. It's a touchy area where schools are concerned, and nobody wants to be reminded of what happened in your case with regards to the school's reputation. Furthermore, they consider that your presence at the event could cause some unwelcome reaction." Mr. Williams paused before speaking further. "Also, _off the record_ , I think that you _should_ attend. Given the reception of your project and the award you'd be receiving, your presence would represent an act of reclaiming your place at the school and serve as a physical act of closure to the project itself. I completely understand if you decide to decline; but, speaking as a social studies teacher and a modern historian, I'd like to see things get shaken up."

"I'll do it," David pronounced without hesitation.

Mr. Williams appeared pleasantly stunned as he smiled. "Okay. I'm glad to hear that. _Off_ the record, of course. I'll be in touch with you between now and next Wednesday. Arrangements will need to be made. Incidentally, because you're the recipient of an academic award, you'll be on the stage with the other award recipients as well as the Valedictorian and other academic honorees. You won't be speaking but, like the other award recipients, you'll get your award and diploma at the start of the commencement ceremony. Stand up. I want to shake your hand and formally congratulate you on your outstanding work, David."

All three men stood and David smiled proudly as Mr. Williams firmly shook his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Williams."

"You're welcome. You earned it. I need to get going, but I'll be talking to you soon, David."

With that, David showed Mr. Williams to the door and met Rupert in the dining room.

"Okay," David addressed Rupert handing to him a printed list of college names, "here is the list of schools who are waiting for my transcripts."

"I'm going to get this rolling as soon as I can get back to the school," Rupert replied, clasping the list to a small stack of other papers with a binder clip and placing it in his briefcase. "David, it has been an absolute pleasure to work with you these few months. It's really not appropriate to say that I was teaching you because you pretty-much did everything yourself, but, given the results of your work, I'd put you on my resumé if I could."

"You could list me or my parents or my teachers as a reference or something. It was great working with you too."

"Well, I've only been doing this for a couple of years, but you're a huge success-story for me, Dave."

David smiled humbly at this. "Did you get a chance to actually check out my project?"

"Yeah, I checked it out, and it's really an impressive work. It deserved the award, and I came away with a greater understanding of you." Rupert paused, saying finally, "If you were older, I take you out for drinks with me and my fiancée: she'd drive, and we'd get loaded, but you're not old enough."

David laughed aloud. "I'll make sure you get invited to my graduation party."

"I will be there."

"Are you going to be at the commencement ceremony?" David asked.

"I can't miss it now, Dave," Rupert said, snapping his briefcase closed. "I'm going to get going, but I will be in touch."

 

* * *

 

"Hi, David," Kurt spoke into his phone.

"Hey, Kurt. How are things?" David answered back. "You're leaving for Chicago tomorrow?"

"Yes, we're leaving from the school tomorrow morning."

"How's Rachel doing?" David asked, sounding concerned.

Kurt answered confident-sounding. "Rachel is the consummate professional. If her bad audition the other day is bothering her, she's not showing it now."

"That's good," David answered, sounding satisfied with the reply. "How do _you_ feel about things going into the competition?"

"I think our program is great, and I think we all want it enough to win," Kurt replied sound measured but positive.

"With the amount of work you people do and the dedication that you have," David paused, "I sincerely hope you win."

Kurt smiled. "Thank you, David. I hate to cut this short, but I need to finish packing and get a good night's sleep."

"No problem," David spoke quietly. "I have some stuff to tell you about, but it can wait, Kurt. Have a good night," David paused, still speaking quietly, "And bring home that win."

Kurt smiled wider. "Thank you, David. Good night."

 

**Saturday, May 5**

The backstage waiting room was quiet but the atmosphere was tense. Coach Sue had just returned an apparently (and miraculously) recovered Mercedes to the room to the relief of the rest of the New Directions. Now they were waiting. It seemed endless.

Kurt's phone buzzed with an incoming text message.

David: _Tell everyone there: Karofsky says to kick ass and bring home the big trophy._ 11:23AM

Kurt began laughing immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the otherwise quiet room.

"This is what it says," Kurt announced almost shyly and holding his phone in the air, "'Karofsky says to kick ass and bring home the big trophy.'"

With that, all of the occupants of the room began laughing, smiling, and clapping, the tension melted.

 

* * *

 

David was sitting in his gameroom with Chris Strando playing some derivation of _Call of Duty_ when his phone rang. It was early evening, and Chris was hoping to drag David out to help him work on a case of beer with their other friends; and David, being in a celebratory mood, was warming to the idea.

David picked up his phone and answered, noting that the call was from Kurt. "Hey, Kurt."

"We're bringing home the trophy! We placed first!"

David nearly had to pull the phone away from his ear; the voice was so loud that it caught Chris's attention over the noise of the game. "No shit?" David exclaimed. "That's awesome!"

"I don't want to be on the phone too long, but I wanted to call you being that you gave us that wonderful pre-show text message."

David laughed, completely forgetting that he was playing a game. "Who else is within shouting vicinity of your phone?"

David could hear Kurt calling names. "Finn! Blaine! Sam! David's on the phone!"

He could hear a jumble of unintelligible shouts as he shouted back into the phone. "I don't know who I'm talking to or if you can even hear me, but congratulations!"

David heard a mess of jubilant shouts reply to which he shouted back, "I can't make out a damned thing anyone is saying."

He could hear Kurt breathing loudly as the background noise died. "David, it's just me, Kurt again. Thanks for your supportive words. I'll see you early next week. Hope you're having a good weekend."

"Congratulations again, Kurt. I know you earned this win. See you soon."

"You're dead, dude," David heard Chris inform him calmly as he ended the call.

"Huh?" David said, still smirking from the call.

"You're dead. Got killed." Chris nodded to the image on the game screen.

 

**Monday May 7**

It was an absolutely perfect early-May afternoon. The parking lot at McKinley High was crowded with cars, but David was able to find a space far from the school. Locating Kurt's Navigator was fairly easy. School would be ending for the day at any minute. David stood at Kurt's car and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, sending a quick message to Chris Strando informing him of his close proximity.

Within a few minutes, people began to exit the school and make their ways to the school busses or the student parking lots. He saw the familiar figure of Chris coming closer toward him.

"Hey, Karofsky," Chris greeted David with a friendly punch to the shoulder, "what are you doing here?"

"Hey, Strando," David answered, "I came to congratulate Kurt and his friends for winning the National competition."

"Shit, man, that's all we did all day," Chris enthusiastically replied, smiling. "It was like, 'Classes? What classes?' Kinda like when the football team won the championship last year. Just like, learning stops for a day."

Looking in the distance, David saw the familiar forms of Kurt, Blaine, Sam, Rachel, and Finn approaching with a few others, some which he didn't recognize. "Hey!" David shouted, raising his arm to get their attention.

In response, Kurt stepped up his walking speed along with the others. As they approached nearer, David spoke loudly, smiling, "Congratulations are in order, right?"

Immediately, Finn reached out and shook David's hand as the others thanked David in unorganized unison. Rachel reached her arms around David and kissed his cheek: a warm surprise as David returned her embrace.

"I heard it was, like, a nonstop party all day," David spoke, recounting Chris's summary of the day.

"They slushied us with confetti," Kurt smiled brightly, "red and white confetti."

David chuckled. "McKinley colors. That's cool. Makes me wish I could have been there."

David looked up from the small crowd for a moment to see Azimio transversing his way across the far side of the lot. Azimio was looking at David but looked away immediately. Chris saw the visual exchange and leaned over to David, saying quietly, "Fuck it, man, you don't need him."

David forced a smile and nodded back at Chris.

"I don't think I know you, but thank you," Rory said while shaking hands with a slightly confused but still-smiling David.

"Exchange student from Ireland," Kurt whispered in David's direction.

"Ah," David spoke back. "Good to meet you."

The crowd slowly dispersed while Kurt, Blaine, and Sam stayed at the Navigator. Sam climbed into the car as he'd be getting a ride with Kurt.

"You guys look great," David complimented.

"Thanks," Kurt replied. "We managed to dodge the spray of sparkling cider in the choir room."

"Your project was awesome, Dave," Blaine offered, sounding formal. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Blaine," David returned. "All of you helped to make it that way."

They were silent for a moment before David spoke again, face becoming slightly more serious.

"So, there is something I wanted to tell you, Kurt," David began. "Blaine, you can be in on this too as far as I'm concerned. I'm gonna attend the Thurston commencement ceremony. My history teacher wants me to do this because, as he says, it's kinda like the final part of my project. I know that sounds kinda pretentious, but I wanna do it anyway for my own reasons."

Kurt looked concerned. "And those reasons would _be_?"

"That depends," David explained. "On some level, just as a kinda fuck-you to the whole situation. The school themselves said that I was free to participate but kinda discouraged my attendance. I guess the whole stigma of what happened with me conflicts with their neat-and-tidy reputation. The thing is, I told you before, I have some leverage. They said I can bring friends. The seating is limited, but they're bending over backwards for me because I won this award for what they consider to be a controversial project. The award will be presented to me there, and there will be people watching."

"What people?" Blaine questioned.

"Could be civil rights lawyers, who knows?" David answered. "Stuff that schools don't want to get their hands dirty with. Bottom line: I'm going. I'd love it if you guys could be there."

"When is it?" Kurt asked.

"Wednesday evening," David replied.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other for a moment. "I have nothing going on that night," Kurt voiced. "I'm in."

"Me too," Blaine said, seconding Kurt's answer.

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 8,500

**Chapter 32**

 

**Wednesday, May 9**

David was sitting alone in the driver's-side of his truck. The parking lot at the Thurston High School was beginning to fill slowly. His parents had arrived separately as it was likely that David would be staying at the school later to return his commencement cap and gown. Presently, the gown itself, along with the mortarboard, was on a hanger in the space behind the seat of the truck; both were a medium blue color (the girls' gowns would be white). The tassels were in a separate package attached to the hanger.

The ceremony was scheduled to be held outdoors on the football field, but a day of steady rain caused the ground to turn into a muddy slick. Despite perfectly clear weather this evening, the commencement would be held in the school's auditorium.

Mr. Williams had met with David earlier in the day and told him the specifics of the evening. The school was leaving nothing to chance. David was to meet a hired security guard at a side entrance where he'd be permitted entry to the building. The guard would escort him to an empty classroom where David would put on his graduation robe and then be escorted to a far stage entrance. He would be seated on the stage with the other award recipients, he would stand on cue when his name was called, he would receive his award, and he would return to his seat where he would remain for the duration of the commencement proceedings. If anyone sensed any trouble at any point during the event, regardless of the cause, four security guards stationed discreetly at the four corners of the stage would convene centrally and escort David through the side stage door, into the hallway, and outside to his vehicle where they would watch until it was clear that he had departed safely.

Being that the commencement was being held indoors, he could not secure seating for Kurt and Blaine. They would be waiting by the open doorway at the side of the stage where David was to exit after the commencement.

David was dressed in a black suit with an ultramarine blue dress shirt and a satin necktie which alternated bright pink with diagonal black stripes. His suit fit perfectly, and he mused to himself that he looked pretty damned good. He scoped the parking lot from his vantage point and saw a number of uniformed security guards roaming the parking lot randomly, observing. _All this for me_ , David thought to himself. _Fuck. If they'd have paid one-quarter this amount of attention to anything three months ago, none of this would be necessary._

He'd arrived early. He, like the rest of the students, was to be in the building by six o'clock; everyone needed to be in their places by six-fifteen; the commencement event would begin at six-thirty. It was five-fifty. Gretchen, Sean, and Howie had agreed to meet David at his truck to walk with him to the building and leave him with the guard at the side entrance. David turned up the sound to the song he had set on repeat. He wanted it loud. It was his mantra for the evening.

He heard a knock at his window. He swivelled his head to see Gretchen standing outside the truck. He pointed to the passenger side for her to get in and wait with him for the others. She climbed into his truck, smiling. She was wearing a loose-fitting black top and a medium-length black skirt. Her hair was down in a classic-bob hairstyle. She looked professional: killer but professional.

"You look great, Dave," she said, taking in his appearance as she seated herself.

"You look amazing as ever also," he returned nodding approvingly at her image.

"What are you listening to?" Gretchen grimaced. "Some Nickelback, 3 Doors Down, Chris Daughtry garbage?"

David regarded Gretchen's statement, addressing her directly. "Gretchen, ninety-eight percent of the time, I will hold with the highest respect your opinions on art, music, and all things of the like. This is in that missing two percent. Listen to the words here and tell me that you can't understand that this means something to me right now.

_Looking back at the beginning of this_  
 _And how life was_  
 _Just you and me loving all of our friends_  
 _Living life like an ocean_  
 _But now the current's only pulling me down_  
 _It's getting harder to breathe_  
 _It won't be too long and I will be going under  
_ _Can you save me from this?_

_'Cause it's not my time, I'm not going_  
 _There's a fear in me but it's not showing_  
 _This could be the end of me_  
 _And everything I know_  
 _But it's not my time, I'm not going_  
 _There's a will in me, and now I know that_  
 _This could be the end of me_  
 _And everything I know  
_ _But I won't go_

"Okay, yeah, I can see that this is you right now," Gretchen admitted. "Are you nervous?"

"Kinda, but I'm also kinda pumped," David answered. "I don't feel like I'm going to take any shit from anyone tonight. They got me dancing around this place with security guards everywhere. It's all kinda ridiculous." David changed the subject. "Is Johnno coming?"

"Yep," she answered quickly. "He'll be here with my parents."

Another knock on David's window signalled the arrival of Sean and Howie. David turned off the music as he and Gretchen climbed out of the truck. Sean wore a deadly-serious expression. He was equally deadly-attired in a subtly-striped gray suit with a black shirt and an emerald-green tie: the black shirt and green necktie played perfectly with his fair skin and red hair. Howie, on the other hand, appeared completely disheveled in an otherwise ordinary black suit with a plain white shirt and black tie; Howie's facial expression, however, seemed to shout, _kill!_

"Looking good, fellas," David managed a greeting smirk.

David reached behind his seat for the hanger which held his commencement robe and pulled it from the truck before locking the doors, and the four began walking to the side entrance, slow but purposeful. Gretchen and Sean both carried a don't-fuck-with-me swagger and expression. David, stoic-faced, walked with an almost military posture. Howie's gait was strange, but his face still said, _kill!_

As they approached the guard at the entrance, David turned to the others and his expression softened. "Guess I'll see you all later."

"Don't forget," Gretchen reminded, "party at my place immediately following."

Sean managed a small but sincere smile, touching David's shoulder in a brotherly fashion. "Later, Dave."

David addressed Howie. "Knock 'em dead, Mr. Valedictorian."

Howie's kill-face took on a grin. "You know it, Dave."

As Gretchen, Sean, and Howie departed for the main entrance, David turned to the guard and spoke. "I'm David Karofsky. I'm the guy you're waiting for."

The polite-looking elderly guard nodded and opened the door for David. He led him into a specific empty classroom. David slipped the robe from the hanger, slid into it, and zipped the front, carrying the cap and the package of tassels in his hand. The entire process required less than a minute. "I'm ready," he informed the guard politely. The guard ushered him from the room down a long corridor and around a bend. The two passed the office where a young woman was seated, waiting for the students to return the caps and gowns at the end of the ceremony. The side stage entrance to the auditorium was at the end of the hallway beyond the bend.

From the distance, he could see two figures standing by the stage doorway. As he drew nearer, he recognized them as Kurt and Blaine. Their backs were facing him as he approached; they were looking through the doorway, likely trying to locate David somewhere inside the auditorium.

"Hey, guys," David spoke quietly, startling the two boys.

"David!" Kurt said as he spun around. Kurt was wearing a relaxed-fitting black suit with a white shirt and skinny tie: mod-retro. His hair was up and stiff-looking: a contrast to the more relaxed hairstyle he'd been sporting recently. Though David liked the less-fussy appearance of Kurt's recent weeks, he admitted to himself that he also missed Kurt's sharper image. This present combination of both was pleasing.

"Hey, Dave," Blaine spoke upon turning. Blaine wore a typical (for Blaine) white dress shirt, navy and red sweater vest, red bowtie, and navy pants. His hair was a softer, curlier version of his typically gelled-up style. As with Kurt, the slight variations worked.

"Hey, guys," David replied, "been here long?"

"No, we just got here," Blaine replied.

"Are you okay, David?" Kurt asked, sounding concerned. "You look, um, _serious_."

David nodded, his face serious but eyes thin, seeming to be smoldering from somewhere inside. "I'm okay," he replied with a detached confidence.

From the corridor behind, they heard the fast clomping of approaching footsteps as four adults approached. David turned to see Mr. Williams, Rupert, and two women quickly walking toward them.

"Hi, Mr. Williams, Rupert," David spoke. "These are my friends Kurt and Blaine."

Mr. Williams and Rupert exchanged greetings and handshakes with the two young men. Mr. Williams spoke to David, gesturing to one of the women, "Dave this is my wife."

"Hello, nice to meet you," David extended his hand to the woman as she greeted him likewise.

"Nice to meet you, Dave."

Rupert similarly gestured to the younger woman by his side. "Dave, meet my fiancée, Katherine."

She smiled as she shook David's hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Dave. I've heard a lot about you. Oh, you can call me Kathy."

At that, David returned the smile and chuckled.

Mr. Williams spoke, "Well, my wife and I should go get our seats." He paused for a moment, giving David a respectful smile. "Really very glad that you're here tonight, Dave."

David nodded, measured. "I know my coming here isn't a mistake. Thank you, Mr. Williams."

As the couple left, the elderly security guard politely reminded, "You should go take your place, young man."

David, already on-edge, said, reigning in an air of attitude, "I have at least ten minutes before I need to be seated." He addressed the man with his expression. "Just give me a few with my friends."

David turned to Rupert and Katherine. "Are you taking seats in the auditorium?"

"Well, we could stay here or stand in the back," Rupert answered. "The seating was so limited. I think we are heading into the auditorium, actually."

"Okay, well," David answered, "if I don't see you again tonight, thanks for coming, and nice meeting you, Kathy."

Kathy shook David's hand and Rupert faced David for a moment before pulling him into a respectful hug. "Later, Dave," Rupert said before walking away.

David faced Kurt and Blaine. "I should probably go in and find my seat," David said to them.

"Wait," Kurt said, "you don't even have your tassels on yet." Kurt took the cap and the package of tassels from David' hand. He pulled the honors tassel and handed the cap and smaller tassel to Blaine. "Lean forward," Kurt addressed David.

David bent his head toward Kurt, and Kurt placed the honors tassel over David's head, resting it on his neck, and pulling it down over the front of his shoulders. Meanwhile, Blaine had attached the small tassel to the cap and handed the assembly back to David.

David straightened. Kurt looked at him, smiling. "I feel ridiculous," David said. "Tradition or no, these robes are kinda silly."

Kurt and Blaine both chuckled in response. "The shirt that you're wearing which I can barely see under your robe is a good blue for you," Kurt commented. "The cerulean gown, not so much. But the pink tie? Rawr."

David laughed. "I'm gonna go find my seat. You'll wait for me here?"

Kurt and Blaine nodded as David walked into the stage area with the security guard a few steps behind. David found a folding chair on which a name card bore his name. He stood there for a moment, looking at the people around. Howie was about five chairs away in the same row. The two made eye-contact. David nodded a wordless 'hello'; Howie shot back an evil grin, raising an eyebrow causing David to laugh.

"Hey, Karofsky." David heard a quiet greeting coming from behind. He turned to see Nick standing before him, hanging his head, eyes making contact with David's.

"Hey, Nick," David replied somewhat louder, hanging onto the final hard consonant sound, _rhymes with dick, rhymes with prick, rhymes with sick_ , David thought to himself.

Nick spoke quietly. "I'm sorry, man, things got outta hand. I-I didn't think tha... "

"Save it for someone who gives a fuck," David replied quietly but low and threatening-sounding, cutting short Nick's apology.

Nick's face pained, eyes dropping away from David's, shoulders seeming to deflate before he spoke again. "Congratulations on your award." He offered his hand to David.

David took his hand firmly for a moment, advancing his face close to Nick's, mere inches away, speaking quietly but with conviction. "Congratulations. You're shaking hands with a faggot." David pulled away, drawing his arm up and back in a quick snap, releasing the handshake, a defiant expression of anger mixed with disgust on his face.

Kurt and Blaine witnessed the exchange from their vantage point. "Wonder what that was all about," Blaine remarked, confused and curious.

"I know what that was about," Kurt said, smiling with a subtle nod. "Karofsky's in the house."

The commencement proceedings began at their appointed time. There were a number of speeches opening the night. A typical sunshine-and-blue-skies speech was given by the school's principal. A second speech delivered by a very old man, a legendary principal from decades past, was croaked nearly unintelligibly into the microphone. David couldn't have been less interested. He felt some sort of positive anxiety. He wanted things to be over, but he felt on the edge of erupting at the same time. David's gaze danced around the darkened auditorium before him. He was able to pick out Rupert and Katherine, two silhouettes standing at the rear. He saw the top of Johnno's head, also backlit, and the outlines of Gretchen's parents beside him. His vision zeroed in on two familiar forms in the half-light: his parents seated close to the right-center aisle.

The Valedictorian was called to address the assembly. David' attention focused. He wanted to hear Howie. He envisioned Howie giving an address that was all happy optimism on the surface with a sarcastic covert undercurrent. David was half-correct in his prediction. Howie took the podium and began speaking into the microphone: a strong, clear voice.

"I'm gonna make this short. Anyone who has ever wanted to hear, or even endured hearing, anything I have to say has probably already heard it. The same goes after today. Anyone who cares what I have to say can pick up a phone and call me any time. If you don't have my number, there's probably a reason for that. Some of us have had the times of their lives here. No doubt that they might be wishing this would go on forever. Some of us have been waiting for this to end for three years now and are more-than-ready for whatever comes after. To the class of 2012, this speech, my speech, isn't about for that for which you might be hoping or lofty goals to be attained. My speech is about slamming the door on this particular chapter of life forever. If you've been with me, I'll be looking forward to appreciating all the great things that await us after today. If you haven't, too bad."

Howie leaned back from the podium, extended his right arm, and flicked his finger into the microphone creating an almost deafening pop which echoed throughout the auditorium, an indignant sneer on his face.

David fought to contain his laughter, face turning red. The silence was deafening at first. The school administrators on the stage exchanged _'what just happened?'_ expressions. A few stray claps could be heard, and David raised his hands from his lap, clapping loudly and slowly at Howie's speech. A wave of unsure applause followed before the individual award recipients would be called to receive their awards and diplomas.

Nick was three chairs away from David, _probably getting some athletic honor_ , David assumed to himself. After the names of five recipients were called, David heard his name.

"David Karofsky, receiving the Society for Modern History's highest honor for a research and interview project in the field of Modern History."

David rose from his seat, face blank but strong. He heard the sound of applause coming from the assembly and others seated closer on the stage. As he approached the Vice Principal who handed over to him his diploma and award plaque, he began to hear stray sounds of dissent. He raised his head and looked out over the assembly. The applause became louder, but the low rumblings of verbalized disrespect became more apparent. David's posture straightened, defensive, nearly arrogant, his head up and addressing the darkened room. His face went from serious to a cocky grin. Suddenly, he was full-on smiling.

The Vice Principal and his assistant backed away from David and the microphone, clearing a path for the security guards to escort David from the stage, but the guards were not immediate. David was standing a fair distance from the microphone, but he leaned forward, lifted his left arm and gestured as if saying, _bring it on_ , and raised his voice loudly enough to be carried into the sound system.

"If you're clapping, thank you. I appreciate your kind applause. If you're booing me or you think I shouldn't be here, thank you even more. I'd have never achieved this honor without you. My award is the result of your work as much as it is mine. Congratulate yourselves for my being here." His brow wrinkled and his smile took on a gleeful menace as he raised the award plaque into the air. "Choke on it, haters."

The cheers and applause became louder, drowning the negative reactions. David could see the forms of applauding people rising to their feet though the hecklers remained invisible. He turned toward the side of the stage, walking tall and steadily to the exit, leaving the security escorts to follow behind. He exited the auditorium at the side door where Kurt and Blaine were waiting. His back was turned from the stage area as Howie stood from his seat, flashed an angry expression to the crowd, raised his hands, and gave the entire assembly a two-fisted middle-finger gesture before turning from them in disgust and following David's trail to the side exit.

Howie barely made it through the door as the security guards were attempting to close and lock it. "Hey, Wait-up!" Howie called to David, Kurt, and Blaine.

David had already removed his cap and half-unzipped his robe when he turned to see Howie. "Howie! What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't going to stay in there with those fucking assholes," Howie shot back.

"Um, aren't you afraid they're going to, like, strip you of your valedictorian status or something?" David asked.

"For _what_? Exercising my freedom of expression? In a _public place_?" Howie was defiant and smiling. "Let 'em try. The place is crawling with internet newshounds and Civil Rights people, thanks to your being here. They'd never get away with that."

David smiled and looked directly at Howie who was unzipping his robe also. "Hey, Howie. Best. Commencement. Speech. Ever."

"Ha!" Howie replied. "I submitted a speech for their approval that was all typical commencement butterflies-and-flowers fluff. They bought it. As soon as I knew you'd be here, I did the last-minute switcheroo. I had to keep it short, though. As soon as someone realized I was off-script, they'd have given me the hook."

"C'mon, boys, keep it moving," a younger, pushy security guard urged.

"No way," David shot back, cocky and demanding. "We gotta turn in our caps and gowns and sign off that we did. This will take some time."

The guard rolled his eyes and backed off.

Howie had already taken his robe into the office while David was fumbling with his. "Hand me your cap and your honors tassel," Kurt said as David slipped the tassel from his shoulders, placing it and the cap into Kurt's hands. Kurt collected the long honors tassel neatly and unfastened the smaller tassel from the cap.

Howie had emerged from the office, and the pushy security guard was nudging him and Blaine down the hallway. "Hey, meet you outside, Dave, okay?" Howie hollered at David.

David called back, folding the slippery blue robe, "No problem, guys."

"David Karofsky here, returning my cap and gown," he spoke loudly-but-politely to the young girl behind the counter in the school's office. She found his name on a list, tagged his garments, and instructed him to sign a return form, handing him a receipt after he did.

Kurt was waiting outside the office, holding David's tassels. There were no guards presently, just the faint noise of applause coming from behind the closed doors of the auditorium. Kurt looked up at David. "You look great, David, truly" Kurt spoke through a subtle smile, as if half-awed, taking in David's fully-suited attire.

David chuckled and smiled in return. "Thank you Kurt."

Kurt approached David swiftly and wrapped his arms around David's solid torso. "That was amazing in there!" Kurt spoke, holding his head against David's shoulder, smiling.

David gasped, almost paralyzed. It took everything David could summon to prevent himself from going completely invertebrate: _I still have some huge feelings for this man_ , David surrendered to himself. He lifted his arms and gently returned Kurt's embrace. Kurt's pull became firmer, and David felt an absolute rush as his backbone returned.

After a few seconds, Kurt released David. David was still stunned, jolted out of his odd reverie by Kurt's voice. "We should get going before someone realizes that you're missing."

The two emerged into the bright evening sunlight to find Howie arguing with the security guard and Blaine appearing flustered and melodramatic.

Howie threw his gaze over at David and Kurt before returning it to the face of the guard. "I'm not the guy you were hired to protect. It's him." Howie pointed at David who was grinning and bouncing smugly.

The guard turned and addressed David. "Um, are you going to leave? We were supposed to escort you out of the building and watch you leave."

"Yes, but I'll be making a call. I'm walking to my truck. It's over there." David pointed in the direction of the parking lot where his truck was parked.

"I need to make a call too," Kurt informed. "Blaine, do you want to ride with David? I can meet you at David's house. He probably shouldn't ride alone."

"Sure, no problem, Kurt," Blaine answered.

"Do you have a ride, Howie?" David asked.

"I'm guessing that my parents will be out of there any minute; I mean, they must have seen me follow you out," Howie answered.

"Well, come with Blaine and me. Wait with us until you know what's going on."

"Hey," the guard protested, "I'm supposed to watch you drive away; I can't be waiting around for him to find his parents."

_"What?"_ David replied, having had enough of the guard's attitude, "Like you have something _better_ to do right now?"

The guard shook his head, defeated, and watched as David, Howie, and Blaine walked to David's truck.

The three boys stood outside David's truck as David pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his father's number.

"David, are you okay? We saw you leave the stage." Paul sounded excited but not frantic.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. I'm in the parking lot. Where are you and mom?"

"We're in the hallway just by the main entrance doors," Paul replied. "I guess we can leave now. All the good stuff is over." Paul was sarcastic but relieved.

David laughed. "Yeah. As soon as Howie can locate his parents, I'll be leaving."

"Is Howie the one who left the stage right after you did?" Paul asked.

"Yes, that's him," David replied. "The Valedictorian."

Paul exhaled loudly. "Interesting speech. _Interesting_ closing gesture."

David laughed, not sure what the last part meant, _maybe Howie's flicking the microphone?_ he thought. "See you at home soon, Dad."

"Bye, David."

Meanwhile, Kurt had just climbed into the Navigator and slammed the door. He produced his phone and dialed his father's number.

"Hey, kiddo, what's shakin'?"

"Hi Dad," Kurt spoke into the phone. "I have a favor to ask. Have you got a minute?"

 

* * *

 

David's truck slowed to a stop and parked in his driveway upon his return home. The presence of his father's car indicated that his parents had already arrived. David let himself and Blaine in through the front door and greeted his parents.

"Hey, Mom, Dad. You've already met Blaine."

"Under better circumstances this time," Blaine added, apologetic as he nodded a greeting in their direction.

"Sorry if that was crazy for you at the school," David spoke to both parents, an uncertain expression on his face.

Paul laughed and shook his head in response. "David, we're proud of you. You gave ‘em hell. They had it coming, and you gave it to them."

Lorraine joined, smiling. "David, you won an award. You were being recognized for an achievement, and those people had no right to react like that. We were only worried when you stormed off the stage because we didn't know where you were."

"Hey," Blaine informed, looking out of the front door, "Kurt's here, and there's another car with him."

Paul walked up to the front door to see Kurt getting out of his Navigator and a plain white Sedan parked in front of the house. A professionally-dressed, tall, middle-aged man emerged from the white car and followed Kurt to the front door of the house. Paul opened the door, curious. The middle-aged man spoke.

"Paul Karofsky?"

Paul answered. "Yes, I'm Paul Karofsky."

The man extended his hand to greet him while speaking. "My name is Martin Avery. I'm the police chief for this district. May I come in?"

"Certainly," Paul answered, stepping aside and welcoming the man and Kurt into his house.

"I will be brief," The man spoke. "I received a call from Congressman Hummel. I understand that there were some problems at your son's commencement earlier this evening."

"Yes, that's true," Paul answered while David and Lorraine watched and listened intently.

"Burt Hummel wants us to keep your house under protective watch for the time being. We'll have two unmarked cars parked on your street at all hours watching for suspicious activity for a week, longer if necessary. In addition, a patrol car will make rounds, driving by every twenty minutes, once again, for as long as necessary." The man reached into his jacket and produced a card. "We don't want to be obtrusive or an annoyance, so if there's a problem, please call me. Also, if there are any problems with threats or anything of that nature, call me _immediately_." At this, the man handed the card to Paul who looked down at the name, title, and phone numbers printed on the card. "My cell phone number is there also if you need to reach me at any time. I do want to say that you probably have nothing to worry about. People who cause these kinds of problems generally don't start any real trouble. They make threats and phone calls and cause anonymous disturbances at things like public school commencements, but they prefer to remain anonymous because they're cowards. Still, if anything happens, no matter how minor it seems, please call me."

Paul looked up at the man. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

"Hey, was your son on the football team at McKinley last year when they won the championship?" the man asked.

David's face brightened as Paul answered. "Yes, yes he was, in fact."

The man spoke again, smiling and turning his attention to David’s face. "I was there. Crazy game, but a good win."

David smiled at the man and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

The man reached out to shake David's hand, then returned to his position by the entryway. "If there aren't any questions or immediate concerns, I need to be on my way; but definitely call me for any relevant reason."

"Thank you, Mr. Avery," Paul spoke, shaking the police chief's hand again as he showed him out the door as David, Blaine, Kurt, and Lorraine migrated to the living room.

Paul joined them directly. "Thank you, Kurt," He directed in Kurt's direction.

"You're welcome," Kurt smiled back. "Being walking buddies with the congressman has its benefits."

"Hey," David caught the attention of Paul and Lorraine. "Kurt, Blaine, and I are going over to Gretchen's tonight for a sort-of informal post-commencement gathering. Parents are invited also if you'd like to come."

Blaine's expression soured as Paul looked at Lorraine, and both parents nodded agreement. "I think we can stop over for a while," Paul announced before he and Lorraine left the room.

"Am I even welcome?" Blaine melodramatically whimpered. "She almost beat me up when I saw her last."

"Blaine, you were drunk that night, and I'm sure she'll excuse that," David appeased. "I'm sure she's fine with you." David bent down, nearly whispering so only Blaine would hear, "Just don't grab my ass this time; that freaks me out."

Blaine faced downward, laughing to himself in melodramatic mock-shame.

"Do you want me to call for a police escort?" Kurt spoke, half-jokingly.

"Uh, no," David answered, entirely serious. "That would freak out everyone there who is under twenty-one except maybe us, Sean, and Johnno. I'm going to head upstairs to change out of this suit."

Kurt sighed. "And you look so fine in that suit."

David smiled. "Thanks, Kurt. I wouldn't be entirely comfortable in this, though."

"I need to ask," Kurt spoke as David was about to ascend the stairs, "Did you get Gretchen's advice on the color combination?"

"No," David answered, nonchalant, "It was all me this time." As he climbed the stairs, he looked back and caught a glimpse of Kurt smiling, reacting to David's admission.

 

* * *

 

Paul drove himself and Lorraine to Gretchen's house while Kurt drove himself, Blaine, and David. The daylight was still very apparent when both cars arrived at the same time. Gretchen was in her front yard, greeting some of her friends when she was approached by David and his parents.

"Hi, Gretchen," David began. "You've met my parents."

"Sure," Gretchen spoke, "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky."

"Good evening, Gretchen," Paul nodded, smiling.

"Thank you for including parents," Lorraine spoke, "It's a nice diversion."

"Hey," Gretchen addressed Paul and Lorraine, "let me take you inside and show you where the other parents are."

Paul and Lorraine followed Gretchen into the house as Johnno approached David holding his cell phone.

"Hey, Johnno," David hailed loudly. "You remember my friends Kurt and Blaine, right?"

"Heya, guys, of course," Johnno said, lifting his phone to eye-level. "Karofsky, you have _got_ to see this."

Johnno held the phone up to David, Blaine, and Kurt, sharing the image as well as he could with three people of different height. On the screen was a video of David receiving his award at the commencement.

"Johnno, you recorded this?" David asked.

"Yeah," Johnno replied, "but you don't even know about the best part yet."

David's face puzzled as Johnno crouched lower so all of them could see the image more clearly. David lowered himself slightly as Blaine craned his neck. The image was David shouting at the microphone, cocky grin on his face, holding his plaque upward, shouting again, walking away. 

"Really cool that you caught this, Johnno," Blaine commented.

"No wait, the best part hasn't happened yet," Johnno corrected. "Wait for it:" the image of Howie standing. "Wait for it:" Howie raises his hands. All three boys studied the screen intently.

"Holy crap!" David exclaimed as Kurt covered his eyes with his hands, laughing. "Did Howie just, like, flip off the whole assembly?"

"In stereo," Johnno affirmed.

David, Kurt, and Blaine continued to shake their heads in disbelief as Johnno spoke. "Most of us are hanging out in back or in the art studio. You can follow me around back if you like."

The three followed Johnno into Gretchen's backyard where there were several others. Sean approached them immediately, smiling and relaxed.

"Hey guys," Sean greeted, shaking hands with Kurt, David, and Blaine.

"How was the rest of the commencement thing after I, uh, left?" David asked, intentionally measured, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"It was a flat-out joke," Sean exclaimed with a crooked smile. "They never fully restored a sense of order, those unarmed security guards were pacing the place like it was a police state, a group of students was called out-of-sequence and they were mistakenly given other peoples' diplomas, people were applauding at completely inappropriate times, though I think Gretchen was the instigator with that. It was just a freaking mess." After a moment, Sean added, "I liked it."

"Think I had something to do with that chaos?" David asked, smirk more pronounced.

Sean shook his head, smiling still. "It was either you, what you said, how you said it, or Howie punctuating the whole thing with double-exclamation points."

"Or maybe a combination of everything?" Kurt offered.

"Yeah, that could be it," Sean reckoned. "First there was Howie's short-and-sweet kiss-off speech, then there was Dave's thing, then, yeah, Howie's hand gestures probably pushed everything to critical mass."

"Uh-oh." Sean observed suddenly, "Here comes Howie now, and, I'm gonna warn you, he's been drinking."

"Dave!" Howie exclaimed as he threw his arms around David and slobbered a wet kiss on David's cheek.

David recoiled but laughed. "You reek of beer, Howie."

Howie stood back and looked at David, a crooked grin. "Tell me I didn't earn it."

"Yeah, you did," David shook his head while Kurt and Blaine laughed at the exchange.

"Hey, they have a keg," Sean informed. "Any of you guys want a beer? Dave?"

"Nah, ah, what the hell, twist my arm," David debated to himself out loud. "Yeah, I'll have one."

"Is there any diet soda or anything like that?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know, but I'll look and let you know," Sean answered.

"Can I get a beer also?" Blaine asked; Sean nodded an affirmative while Kurt shot an angry, warning stare at Blaine. "What?" Blaine replied, "I was only going to have one or two."

The three boys leaned against a fence while others paced and congregated at other places in the backyard. The sun was beginning to set, and music from one of Gretchen's mixes could be heard faintly from the art studio. Randy approached them and shook their hands as he took a place against the fence also. Sean returned, handing plastic cups of beer to David and Blaine.

"There's some diet cola and some diet cherry soda," Sean spoke to Kurt.

"Ooh!" Kurt perked. "Cherry soda, if you don't mind."

Sean smiled. "Be back with it in a second."

"Looks like a line-up," Johnno said, approaching the group at the fence. "Think I'll join you."

"Nice night out," David commented to the others.

"Pretty awesome evening all-around," Randy offered and Johnno seconded.

Sean arrived with a plastic cup of cherry soda for Kurt. He looked up at David and the rest of the group, speaking softly. "Teresa and Tammy just arrived."

"I don't think I've met them," Kurt mentioned with a puzzled expression.

"I know them to see them, but I don't know them well," David offered. "Teresa was in my AP History class. They seem like cool gals."

"Tammy said they came here because she wants to fuck the valedictorian," Sean informed bluntly.

"No!" David grinned in disbelief.

Sean shook his head. "That's what she said. Guess she digs brainy dudes with balls."

Randy reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, unfolding it and fishing around for a moment. "Howie," Randy called out, "Get over here for a second."

"What's up?" Howie spoke as he walked to Randy.

"Shake my hand," Randy offered, extending his right hand, taking Howie's, and discreetly handing off a packaged condom to him in the exchange. "You might need that before the night's over."

Howie appeared confused until he realized what he was holding upon which his face brightened and he excitedly whispered, "Thanks, bro."

David, having watched the exchange, was silent for a moment before laughing quietly. Kurt laughed and facepalmed. Blaine shook his head. "You people are shameless."

Eventually, the evening cooled, some of the gathering departed, and the rest found their way inside. There was typical party food set on a card table, along with paper plates, and a cake. The evening, though winding down, was friendly and casual. Blaine was standing near the food table speaking with Randy and Sean. A group of girls were gathered at the other side of the room: Terri, Teresa, and a few others which David didn't know. Howie and Tammy were conspicuously absent, but everyone could correctly assume what the pair were doing. Kurt, David, Gretchen, and Johnno were sitting around a small round table. In the center of the table was a glass candy dish filled with black licorice and Canada mints.

The lights in the room were dim but not to a bothersome degree. Gretchen and Johnno seemed to be getting cozy with each other as the evening drew later, something which made both Kurt and David feel slightly uncomfortable given their close proximity. "You look nice tonight, David," Kurt spoke, attempting to divert his unease with the couple across the table; but the statement itself was true enough to Kurt.

David was wearing a casual-looking collared sweater in a warm-gray color which zipped in the front over a charcoal-colored T-shirt and jeans. David smiled at Kurt's observation, taking it merely as a way to begin a conversation. "Thanks. You preferred the suit, though."

Kurt smiled wider, nearly laughing. "The suit was just great, but you look good in your comfortable mode also, David." A few seconds passed before Kurt said, "Well, you made it."

David gave a questioning expression back to Kurt. "What?"

"Back when I ran into you at Scandals, you said that you were just trying to make it through high school," Kurt recounted.

David smiled and looked upward as if thinking. "Did I say that?"

Kurt nodded, "Yes, you did, David."

"Okay, then, I guess I made it," David addressed Kurt's eyes with an uncertain smile. "This year started as some of the worst stuff I ever had happen to me, but the last couple of months have been so amazingly good." David leaned against the back of his chair as Kurt smiled at the statement.

A slow, dreamy song with a female vocal began playing. "Mmm, I love this song," Gretchen purred to a smiling Johnno. She picked up a piece of licorice from the candy dish and held it in her lips as Johnno's lips slowly met hers, wrapping around the candy. David and Kurt, having witnessed this, both stood up and slowly left the table, leaving Johnno and Gretchen to themselves.

"Okay, I love Gretchen and Johnno," David confided quietly to Kurt, "and I love that they're together, but I don't need to be seeing that."

"Nobody does, really," Kurt seconded quietly, smirking.

David seated himself on a couch in the far corner of the room. Kurt moved to join him there, but before he could, Teresa sat beside David. Kurt settled into an easy-chair which faced the couch from a distance.

David was engaged in a friendly conversation with Teresa, his face side-lit by a nearby table lamp. Kurt found himself watching David's face, studying his expressions as the dreamy song continued to play, louder at this side of the room.

_I wanna hold the hand inside you_  
 _I wanna take the breath that's true_  
 _I look to you and I see nothing_  
 _I look to you to see the truth_  
 _You live your life, you go in shadows_  
 _You'll come apart and you'll go black_  
 _Some kind of night into your darkness  
_ _Colors your eyes with what's not there_

_Fade into you_  
 _Strange you never knew_  
 _Fade into you  
_ _I think it's strange you never knew_

_A strangeŕs light comes on slowly_  
 _A stranger's heart without a home_  
 _You put your hands into your head  
_ _And then smiles cover your heart_

Kurt snapped out of what seemed like a music-induced trance as David stood from his seat. Kurt looked up at him as he said, "It's getting late, and I'm gonna see if I can find my parents."

"I should probably round up Blaine and get moving," Kurt replied. "I mean, unlike you, Blaine and I have school tomorrow."

Kurt moved over to the food table where Blaine was still talking with Sean and Randy. Terri had joined them as well.

"Are we outta here?" Blaine asked as Kurt approached.

"Yes, I think we are," Kurt answered. "School day for us tomorrow."

Kurt and Blaine said goodbye to the people standing near them in the room as David returned from the upstairs.

"My folks are leaving," David announced quietly. "I'm gonna meet them outside," he said as he also bade farewell to the people in the room.

David and Kurt both turned to the table to say parting words to Johnno and Gretchen, but Gretchen was straddling Johnno's lap as they kissed, oblivious to their surroundings. "I'm not even going to bother," David said with a smirk as Kurt nodded agreement.

Kurt and Blaine climbed into Kurt's Navigator as David departed with his parents.

 

**Friday, May 11**

David had rarely logged onto Facebook recently, but, with the end of his school work and hours of free time in the afternoon, he decided to see if anything had changed since his last visit to the site a few weeks ago. He was stunned to find two hundred and eighty-six new friend requests. When he viewed them, some were revealed to be people he knew from school, well, barely knew; others were complete strangers. His first reaction was that it was some kind of error or mass-spamming. Some of the friend requests included short messages, but there were far too many for him to sift through at this point. His private messages were also in the triple digits.

Baffled, he decided not to deal with it at this time, logging out of Facebook and checking his email instead.

Kurt called at three o'clock.

"Hello," David answered his phone. "Kinda early for you?"

"Hi David. Glee Club is done for the year. I'll be in this early from now on."

"I hadn't thought of that," David remarked. "I guess with Nationals being finished and won, there isn't any more Glee Club for the rest of the year."

"Well, there is a secret rehearsal tomorrow morning."

"Secret rehearsal?" David's curiosity piqued.

"Will Schuester is getting a Teacher of the Year award tomorrow afternoon, and we'll be singing at the assembly. He doesn't know anything about it." Kurt's voice sounded mischievous.

"That's pretty awesome," David said. "Mr. Schuester was always a really nice guy. He was nice to me even, when he had every reason to smack me upside my head." David paused for a moment. "I guess that means you won't be meeting me to run tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, that's right," Kurt sounded slightly disappointed. "My dad and stepmom will be there at the park, but Finn, Sam, and me won't make it." Kurt paused, thinking for a moment. "Do you want to go to Mr. Schuester's award thing? There's limited seating, but I have two tickets, presumably for my parents; and Finn has two tickets for his parents; and it happens that Finns parents and my parents are the same people."

"Actually, that sounds like it might be kinda fun," David paused. "New experiences, right?"

"Yes. There are two tickets, so you could ask someone else if they'd like to go with you. One of your Thruston friends maybe?"

"I'll see if anyone wants to join me, but I'm pretty sure I'd definitely like to go even if no one else can make it." David changed the subject. "Oh yeah, I was gonna ask you. Um, my friend Corey has been trying to get a group of us to go out bowling since, like, the fall. Now that school's done and all of our schedules are freed-up, we were planning on this Sunday afternoon. Would you go to that?"

"Well," Kurt measured his response, "I've never been very good at bowling, but I'm sure it will be fun with a crowd. Count me in."

"We can get together beforehand and maybe have a practice game or something," David offered. "I might be able to help you with your technique."

"Well, other than meeting you at the park Sunday morning, the rest of my day will be open. Should I ask Blaine or anyone else?"

"Ask whomever you like," David responded. "It should be fun, and, although I'm pretty good and Corey is an excellent bowler, it's not going to be serious or anything. Just a bunch of friends getting together to have a good time."

"Sounds good, David. I'm going to get going and tend to the upcoming arrival of my dad and Carole. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Bye, Kurt."

"Goodbye, David."

 

* * *

 

David had just settled into his bedroom after dinner when his phone rang; it was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Dave?" the voice asked back.

"Uh, yeah, who's this?"

"It's Blaine. I got your number from Kurt. Hey, listen, the people from the local PFLAG have been trying to contact you on Facebook."

"Blaine, I was on Facebook earlier today. I have, like, hundreds of friend requests and private messages. I rarely go on there. I was thinking my account was hacked or something."

"No, Dave, it's not that. That vid of you at commencement was posted, and one of the comments linked it to the page from the historical society website. It's gone ballistic. The people at PFLAG want you to speak at this Tuesday night's meeting."

David was silent, stunned; not in a bad way, but silent nonetheless.

"Dave?" Blaine asked, "Are you still there?"

"Um, yeah, I, I never, uh... "

"Dave, can I give you the number of the person who wants to talk with you, and you can call them and go from there?" Blaine offered. "They'll tell you more about it. I used to be really involved in PFLAG. They contacted me asking me if I knew anything about you, and I said, 'Sure, I know Dave Karofsky,' and they got all excited."

David was warming to the idea, but the thought of the video of his commencement rant going viral still left him uneasy. "Um, how many hits has that video had?"

"It was, like, five hundred and counting last I checked," Blaine stated. "Okay, can I give you that person's name and number right now?"

"Um, can you just text it to me?" David asked. "My head's kinda spinning right now."

"Sure, no problem, Dave," Blaine answered. "I really hope you decide to do this, Dave; but I understand if it's just kinda overwhelming."

"Yeah, thanks Blaine."

"You're welcome, Dave. I'm going to say goodbye and text you that information right now, okay?"

"Sure," David responded, feeling dazed. "Later, Blaine."

"Goodbye, Dave."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced songs:
> 
> "It's Not My Time" by 3 Doors Down  
> "Fade Into You" by Mazzy Star


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 10,000

**Chapter 33**

 

**Saturday, May 12**

David stood toward the back of the auditorium watching as people left their seats, cheerfully reconnected, carried on loud conversations, and, in some cases, merely made their way toward the exits. Everyone appeared to have enjoyed themselves. The New Directions sounded terrific, and Mr. Schuester appeared genuinely surprised to be presented with the Teacher of the Year award. And, yes, it was genuinely moving to watch him embrace his students individually and see them, teary-eyed with joy, share in the emotion of the moment.

David was unable to find anyone who wanted to accompany him to the event, but that's what he'd expected though he'd asked a few of his friends. He sat with Burt and Carole, and they were certainly as close to being David's friends as friends' parents can be. David also knew that the only person that he'd truly have wanted to have had sitting in the seat next to his was busy singing on the stage before him.

For as many times, even within recent memory, as David had felt alone in a room full of people, he felt anything but alone at that time. It felt like Burt and Carole were becoming extended family; he felt connected with several of the people he'd seen on the stage; others present whom he hadn't seen in a year, people like Mr. Schuester, Coach Beiste, and Miss Pillsbury, always made David feel welcome despite David's often questionable behavior at the time.

"Hey!," David heard a familiar voice behind him and, startled, spun his head quickly to see Kurt, changed out of his stage attire and dressed casually. "Did you enjoy the presentation?" Kurt furthered.

David smiled. "Yeah. You people sounded and looked great. Also, I'm seeing all of these other people who I haven't thought about in months."

"Like who?" Kurt asked sprightly, darting his eyes around the dispersing crowd.

"Uh, Mr. Schuester of course, Miss Pillsbury, Coach Beiste, people like that."

"Well, if you wait here for a while, you'll get to talk to them," Kurt informed. "They're working their way in this direction right now." David looked up, suddenly more interested, while Kurt informed, "Oh, did I tell you that Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury are engaged?"

"No, you didn't tell me that," David's expression mixed happy surprise with affected neglect. "When did that happen?"

"The same week Finn proposed to Rachel," Kurt informed, craning his head, scanning the thinning crowd.

"Speaking of Rachel, her voice is fantastic," David offered. "I don't know if I was too much of a douche to ever really pay attention in the past; but you all sounded amazing, and her voice is just killer."

Kurt noted David's delivery. It was sincere, but he appeared uncomfortable voicing it, as if being complimentary was new territory to him. Kurt found the awkwardness to be sweet as he answered, "You know, if you actually say that to Rachel, she'll probably kiss you."

David lowered his head and grinned, trying to mask the flush he felt coming on when he heard a gruff, familiar voice.

"Looking good, boy."

David raised his head to see a smiling Coach Beiste reaching out and giving him a rough hug.

"Thanks, Coach," David chuckled as he gripped her right back.

"Missed you on the team this year, but I heard you're doing okay," Beiste said, pulling away, still smiling, "Academic award, scholarship grant, raising heck at a rival school's commencement: what are you, a double-agent?"

David laughed loudly before regaining his composure to answer, "Word travels fast, I guess."

Coach Beiste's face sobered slightly without entirely losing her smile. "Do you think you had to leave McKinley to excel? Do you think the change of scenery was what you needed for you to achieve your best?"

David shook his head, expression uncertain. "I guess you could look at it that way, but I don't know. I mean, there were a lot of good things that came out of it, way before my awards. There was also the worst stuff that ever happened to me. I can't change it. Given the way everything worked out, I wouldn't want to change it either."

Coach Beiste nodded, patting David's shoulder. "Good attitude. People are trying to get past me to the door, and I'm being an obstacle. I'm going to get moving. Good to see you, Karofsky."

"Good to see you too, coach," David said, neck twisting slightly as he visually followed her walking past and into the hallway outside the auditorium.

"Dave Karofsky?" a voice startled David's attention back to his other side; turning, he was greeted with the surprised visage of Will Schuester and smiling face of Emma Pillsbury, wide-eyed as ever. "How are you doing, Dave?" Will had a way of delivering his speech with high melodrama without seeming the least bit artificial.

"I'm actually really good, Mr. Schuester," David smiled humbly. "Thanks for asking."

"Well, thanks for coming," Will's melodramatic delivery again as he vigorously shook David's hand, never breaking eye-contact. "What brings you here?"

"Kurt invited me, actually," David nodded his head in Kurt's direction as Kurt smiled politely as if on cue.

"Well, I heard about the award for your history project, Dave, congratulations!" again, delivered in Will's slow, emphatic cadence.

"Well, I just saw you being named Teacher of the Year, and I heard about your engagement," David smiled, "Double congratulations!"

At this, just when it would have been believable that Emma's eyes couldn't get any wider, she nearly squealed with excitement and held up her left hand, displaying her ring.

"That's awesome," David said, nodding and noting her ring.

"Thank you, Dave," Miss Pillsbury smiled appearing the exact opposite of the uptight, marmish woman he remembered from a year ago.

"Y'know, I hate to cut this short, but we really need to get past and out into the hallway, but I'm glad I ran into you," Will spoke while moving himself toward the exit. "You look good, Dave."

"Thanks," David replied. "I feel good," he added, quietly perhaps only meant for himself and possibly Kurt who was standing nearby."

"Do you have anything going on tonight?" David directed at Kurt.

Kurt exhaled. "It's early, not even four o'clock yet. I have finals next week. I need to study, but, truth told, I'm tired of studying. Did you have something in mind?"

David shook his head and ceased smiling, betraying that he was preoccupied. "I could be up for maybe grabbing a cup of coffee or maybe dessert or something and just talking. This PFLAG thing has me kinda weirded-out."

"I'm always up for dessert," Kurt answered. "And, of course, if you need to talk about that, I'll give any help I can, David. Blaine is more familiar with PFLAG, though. He was a regular at that chapter's meetings for a while. Do you want me to see if he's free to come with us also?"

"Sure," David answered. "Any perspectives would be appreciated."

Kurt located Blaine among some of the other members of the New Directions while they were meeting and shaking hands with various admirers from the assembly. Kurt, David, and Blaine left the school for the Lima Bean, making themselves comfortable at one of the tables in a far corner.

"So, Dave, what's up?" Blaine began. "Did you talk to Ronald, the person from PFLAG?"

"Yeah, I did," David began hesitantly. "See, I wanna do this. If anything I have to say can help anybody, I want to get it out there."

"Then, what's the problem, David?" Kurt asked, not trying to sound sarcastic or impatient.

David shook his head, seeming confused, before speaking. "When I talked to Ronald, it's like he thinks I'm a cult-hero or something. That's nothing I understand, and I never saw myself as that or aspiring to be that." 

"David, I don't think anyone aspires to be a cult hero," Kurt offered. "It's usually something that just happens."

"Yeah, and most of them embrace their cult-hero status and become media whores once their fifteen minutes run out," Blaine offered, sincerely. "That's not Dave." Blaine paused before continuing, addressing David directly. "Dave, you received an award for your excellent work. At least part of that came out of personal experience. That project and a fair amount of the relevant personal background is publicly accessible on a website. Part of the message of that project seems to be this confrontational attitude. A video of you proudly getting in the faces of hecklers has gone viral. People have become legitimate cult heroes on far less than that."

David gazed down at the table, an expression of serious gravity on his face.

"David, you know, nothing requires that you do this," Kurt spoke, a concerned tone in his voice, "if you're not comfortable with it."

"Kurt's right," Blaine added, "What did you say when you talked to Ronald?"

Dave spoke slowly and quietly. "I told him I'd let him know as soon as I could. The sooner the better, obviously."

"What you have to say, or even just your presence there _could_ help someone, Dave," Blaine offered. "But, ultimately, the choice is yours. You've probably helped a lot of people already just with what's out there."

"No, I hafta do this," David said, still quietly, but with conviction. "I feel it's almost a responsibility." David paused and breathed loudly before speaking again."I have no idea what I'm going to say. Like, what are they expecting? Should I come with something prepared? I really wouldn't know where to begin on something like this."

"David, just be yourself," Kurt began. "You're awesome when you're just being yourself." Kurt quieted to a near-whisper. "You're _sexy_ when you're just being yourself."

David chuckled quietly, still facing down into the table.

"Kurt's right," Blaine seconded. "You're great when you just wing it. You can do this unscripted, but, if you want me to try to help you come up with some kind of starting-point, you can call me, Dave."

"I'll help you, too," Kurt followed.

David looked up from the table, eyes darting from Kurt to Blaine and back to Kurt again. "Yeah, I'll call Ronald when I get home and tell him that I'm in," David said quietly but firmly, nodding.

Blaine and Kurt both smiled with Kurt lifting his hands and clapping quickly and quietly.

 

**Sunday, May 13**

It was afternoon, and David was in his bedroom and checking his email awaiting Kurt's arrival when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"C'mon in," he called out.

The door opened and Kurt walked in, closing the door behind himself, smiling. He was holding a small gift bag. "Good afternoon, David."

"Hi, Kurt," David looked up from his chair and stood instinctively. "You're a little early. Did you want to head out early and do some practice games before everyone else arrived?"

"No," Kurt replied lazily, still smiling, "I thought I'd just wing-it."

"Whatcha got there?" David said, eyes dropping to the bag in Kurt's hand as Kurt walked closer.

"I have something for you," Kurt handed the bag to David.

David eyed the bag with some suspicion. He could see bright pink tissue paper peeking out of the black gift bag. "Um, this isn't, like, something to wear, is it?"

"Actually, it is."

David's expression became slightly apprehensive. "Dude, I'm afraid."

Kurt laughed. "Come on, David. I know you, and you know me better than that. I'm not going to buy you something with gold spangles and rainbows all over it and expect you to wear it."

David slowly reached into the bag through the soft tissue paper until he felt a slippery garment beneath, gently grasping it and slowly pulling it out of the bag: folded black fabric with splashes of color, unfurling to reveal a bowling shirt: black with parallel panels of hot-rod flames in red, orange, and other colors on both sides of the black button placket in the center.

"This is actually really _cool_ ," David said, considering the shirt, studying it.

"It reminded me of the fuzzy dice you have hanging by your desk," Kurt nodded in the direction of the dice.

David smirked. "It's kinda wild. I don't know if it's anything I'd have bought for myself, but I can definitely wear it."

"And _you_ were _scared_ ," Kurt said in a mocking tone, seating himself on the wooden trunk.

David looked up, smiling. " _You get me_ ," he said quietly. "Should I wear it today?"

"Well, we _are_ going _bowling_ ," Kurt reminded.

"I'll step into the bathroom and put it on, then," David said with an air of excitement in his voice. "Be back in a minute."

"Wait," Kurt said causing David to turn back. "You're not wearing that with one of those white crew-neck T-shirts underneath it."

"No?" David's expression puzzled.

"No. I came prepared. Put this on instead." Kurt reached into his messenger bag, pulled out a balled black garment, and tossed it at David.

David shook it out into its proper shape: a black wife-beater shirt. "Really? Are you sure?" David's expression puzzled.

"Definitely," Kurt responded.

Minutes later, David emerged from the bathroom just outside his bedroom door wearing the bowling shirt and appropriate undergarment. His expression was hesitant. Kurt smiled and nodded.

"It's you."

"Are you sure, Kurt? I mean, you can see my chest hair."

"So what?" Kurt snapped, nearly sarcastic.

"Um, I've always been kinda self-conscious about that."

 _"Why?"_ Kurt held out the word, almost flustered.

"Um, because I had hair there before, like, anyone else did," Dave answered slowly, measured.

"Oh, c'mon, David," Kurt sounded dismissive. "It's part of you. The total you." Kurt's voice became quieter. "And you look sexy."

"You think?"

"Yeah," Kurt answered, nodding slowly. "Y'know, Blaine waxes his chest."

David responded, looking over to Kurt, almost mumbling, "You think I should do that?"

"Don't you dare!" Kurt's reaction was immediate and emphatic.

David smiled and grimaced simultaneously at the immediacy and directness of the response.

 

* * *

 

Lima Lanes was a slightly misleading name. Certainly it was the area's most well-known and obvious bowling facility, but it also housed a videogame arcade, typical snack bar, bar-and-sit-down restaurant, and pool hall.

Kurt and David arrived before anyone else and were waiting for the arrival of the others. Corey had reserved two lanes for the group of them, and David and Kurt sat beside themselves having already rented their shoes. David brought his bowling ball from a few years ago when he bowled regularly. Kurt had selected his ball under David's advice to select one based upon something other than its color and design. Kurt spied Gretchen, Johnno, and Sean from a distance as they arrived and raised his arm to catch their attention. David stood to greet them as they approached the reserved lanes.

"Whoa," Gretchen nearly growled, "Looking good, Dave."

David smiled back with a slight blush. "Thanks. Kurt gave me the shirt. You like it?"

"Kurt has good taste, and he's nailed it," Gretchen spoke, her voice diminishing to a near-whisper. "It's you. You look sexy."

David chuckled under his breath. "That's what Kurt said."

Sean approached, and David reached out his hand to greet him. Sean took his hand and shook it, but backed off slightly, appraising David's appearance, nodding, approvingly and slowly smiling.

"You look killer," Sean assessed.

David looked downward, nodding. "Thanks."

Corey and Angela arrived together. Corey was setting up the scoreboard with the names of the players when Blaine arrived. David and Kurt greeted him and he shook hands with both of them, his eyes lingering on David, jaw slightly slack.

"That looks really awesome on you, Dave," Blaine voiced quietly, almost nervous-sounding.

David smiled, once again looking away. "Thanks, Blaine." Kurt witnessed the exchange and smiled to himself, the unspoken subtext mentally registered.

Kurt and David returned to their seats as they waited for Corey to finish setting up the game. David faced forward, smiling, and spoke in a quiet voice, just loud enough for Kurt to hear. "Everyone's loving the shirt. I'm still not entirely comfortable, though."

"You _look_ relaxed and comfortable, David," Kurt spoke at the same volume. "It's _you_. Maybe a different side of you, but it's _you_. Embrace it."

The afternoon was relatively free of melodrama. Nobody was paying much attention to the score, but Blaine and Corey seemed to have struck something of a competitive rivalry. Corey was an excellent bowler, and Blaine's game wasn't even nearly as good as David's (and David was admittedly rusty). Gretchen was unsurprisingly formidable, and Johnno and Sean seemed very-much to be just along for the sole purpose of spending a leisurely afternoon with their friends. Kurt was probably the least-effective scorer, but David took time between turns to help Kurt improve his form and aim, standing next to him, miming the motions of the approach and release; and Kurt's game showed marked improvement as the game progressed (though Kurt would have called the results completely coincidental).

Corey and Angela departed immediately following the game as they were meeting her parents for dinner. David, Kurt, and Blaine were going to stay for a while, deciding to check out the snack bar's offerings. Gretchen, Johnno, and Sean lingered as well.

"I gotta get some nachos," David told the rest of the gathering.

Kurt grimaced. "Snack bar nachos are, like, the worst. In every respect. The Devil's candy with fake cheese slop."

David laughed. "I know it, but, it's, like, tradition with me. If I'm bowling, the day isn't complete unless I have 'em. Anyone else want anything? Soda? Soft pretzel? Anything like that?"

"Diet cola," Kurt spoke indifferently.

"Grab me a soft pretzel?" Blaine requested.

"Okay," David spoke as he backed in the direction of the snack bar before turning, "I'll be back in a few."

David stood at the snack bar waiting for the components of his order. He was standing there alone, watching the activities of people close by. He could hear the voice of an approaching person address the person behind the counter placing an order for two slices of pizza and two soft drinks. David turned to see a blonde, curly-haired boy that he recognized. The boy was staring forward, watching the person behind the counter filling orders, oblivious.

David spoke, loud enough to get the boy's attention. "Aaron, right?"

The boy turned to address David, and an expression of unease struck his face. "Yeah," the boy replied startled.

"Remember me?" David asked, trying to seem unthreatening.

"Yeah, of course, man," Aaron smiled nervously, "How could I forget?"

David paused before responding, summoning a small smile. "Hey, if you're cool with me, I'm cool with you. You cool with me?"

Aaron looked forward with a small chuckle, slightly relieved but still nervous. "Yeah, well, sure. You didn't kick my ass a few weeks back, so, yeah. Even if you had kicked our asses, It'd probably still be cool. I mean, it wouldn't have been without provocation."

"Hey!" Gretchen approached David at the snack counter; Aaron looked away instinctively as Gretchen continued. "We're gonna cut out," she explained. "Are you doing that PFLAG thing Tuesday night?"

"Yeah," David answered. "I'll be there. Why? You gonna come?"

Gretchen gave a dumbfounded expression. "C'mon, Dave. One of my bestest friends is going to be a guest speaker at a PFLAG meeting. Like I'd miss _that_."

David chuckled. "Guest, yeah. I don't know how much speaking I'll do. I don't even know what to say."

"Well, Sean and I will be there anyway. Johnno will be there too if he can get away."

By this time Sean and Johnno had joined Gretchen, and David shook hands with them, thanked them for the afternoon, and bade them farewell. After they left, he turned back to Aaron.

"So, what are you up to here?"

Aaron answered, seeming more at ease. "Just shooting some pool with Ryan."

"Ah, Ryan," David considered. "The mouthy one." David paused for a moment. "Wanna get a game going with me and my friends? I mean, if you think Ryan would be okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure," Aaron said, more relieved. "I'm sure he'd be alright with that." Aaron paused, "Uh, what's your name again?"

"Dave," David answered politely, extending his right hand to Aaron.

Aaron shook David's hand, speaking. "Nice to meet you. Again."

David smirked, replying, "Better circumstances this time."

"Yeah," Aaron dragged out the response through a relaxed laugh.

"Cool," David responded, gathering the items he'd ordered from the counter. "Go get a table, I'll go get my friends, and we'll see you back there in a few."

Aaron nodded as David turned and made his way back toward Kurt and Blaine.

David placed a soft-drink cup in Kurt's hand and reached to give Blaine his pretzel while balancing a paper-plate of nachos in his other hand. "Some guys wanna play pool," David spoke. "Either one of you play?"

Kurt shook his head. "Never played."

"I play pool," Blaine offered.

"You wanna play, then, Blaine?" David asked.

"Sure," Blaine stood, appearing agreeable. "It's early, and I have nowhere to be."

"Cool," David commented, adding, "just don't freak out when you see who we're playing with, okay?"

Blaine shook his head, indifferent-but-curious, as Kurt rose from his seat and the three boys walked toward the pool room, snack bar concessions in hands.

The pool room was large, and several tables were occupied though there were a few unused ones at the moment. Aaron and Ryan were at a table against the far wall, racking the balls for a new game when David, Kurt, and Blaine approached.

"Hey, guys," David addressed Kurt and Blaine, "you remember Aaron and Ryan?"

Kurt and Blaine nodded, their gestures unsure but their recollection certain.

Aaron wore a welcoming expression, even if he wasn't exactly smiling, unsure himself. Ryan appeared serious but unthreatening.

"Guys, these are my friends Kurt and Blaine," David addressed Aaron and Ryan. "I don't think you were properly introduced when we met before. Blaine and I will be playing the two of you; Kurt's just going to sit this one out."

Ryan and Aaron approached Kurt and Blaine, shaking their hands quietly but respectfully after which David and Blaine stepped over to the rack to select pool cues for themselves while Kurt watched the four boys prepare for the game.

"Do one of you two want to break?" Ryan asked Blaine and David quietly but directly.

David and Blaine looked at each other, trading shrugging expressions until Blaine offered, "I'll break."

Blaine lined up a straight shot sinking the six-ball into a side pocket, determining that David and Blaine would be shooting for the solid colors while Ryan and Aaron would be playing the striped balls.

Within a few turns, all four players seemed to have relaxed and were in the midst of a friendly game. Kurt, watching intently, well, primarily watching David, shook his head in a dissolving feeling of disbelief. David was somehow able to change attitudes and win people over. _How did he do that?_ Kurt wondered with a smile of admiration on his face.

Early in the game, David and Blaine had succeeded in eliminating most of the solid-colored balls from the table while several of the striped balls remained. "You don't hafta let us win, you know," David directed at the opposing team.

"Oh, we have no intention of _letting_ you win," Ryan said as he lined up a shot. "If you win, you win, but we'll try to prevent that." With that, Ryan snapped back his cue and knocked the cueball into a cluster of balls, sinking both the ten and thirteen balls into opposite corner pockets.

David smirked and nodded, impressed with the difficult shot. "That was awesome, Ryan."

Ryan smiled back. "If only I had planned that," he muttered in a low voice as Blaine and Aaron chuckled in unison.

The game continued for some time until only the eight ball remained. Aaron successfully pocketed the ball on the third attempt, winning the game for himself and Ryan.

"Good game, guys!" David announced, shaking hands with the two boys. Blaine followed and voiced similar complimentary terms.

"You up for another game?" Ryan asked David and Blaine.

"I think we should probably be getting back," David answered, "but, thanks, it was fun."

"Definitely," Aaron said, shaking David's hand again.

"Maybe we'll do this again sometime," David added as Aaron and Ryan voiced agreement before shaking hands and exchanging parting words with Blaine and Kurt as well.

"How do you _do_ that?" Kurt directed at David in an almost scolding tone as he drove David back to his home.

"What?" David was almost taken aback by Kurt's delivery.

"A month-and-a-half ago, you were ready to rip those guys' heads off and toss them into a dumpster behind a restaurant, and tonight you're playing a friendly game of pool with them."

David smiled and shook his head. "You can't fight ignorance with more ignorance, Kurt. If I can find an inroad to change someone's mind, hey, I'll do that. People can change. Sometimes it helps if you give them a friendly push or a well-meaning threat, maybe. It probably helps that I can be intimidating, but just knocking someone around isn't going to change anyone's mind. I mean, look at how much _I've_ changed. Look at my mom. I mean, it was you who told me, I don't know how many times, that people deserve another chance, right?"

If there was any doubt left in Kurt's mind, David had extinguished it. "So, you're giving me credit for this?"

David smiled and replied quietly, "I learned from the best."

 

**Tuesday, May 15**

Kurt's phone buzzed, an incoming call from Blaine. Kurt and David were sitting in the back seat of Paul's car en route to the PFLAG meeting with Paul driving and Lorraine sitting in the passenger front-seat.

"Hello, Blaine," Kurt spoke into the phone.

"Where are you?"

"We're almost there," Kurt answered. "It's not even five-thirty yet. The meeting is at six. We're going to be early."

"Kurt, this place is nucking futs," Blaine nearly shouted back. "There are so many people here we had to move it from the regular meeting room to one of the large theater-style lecture halls, not only for the number of people here, but we needed to get a room wired for sound." Kurt's eyes widened as David watched, curious and Blaine continued. "The typical PFLAG meeting draws maybe thirty or forty people. The most they've ever had was just over fifty. Kurt, there are easily _three times_ that many people here."

"Oh, my," Kurt said, hushed.

"What's up?" David questioned, concerned. "What's going on?"

Kurt, not wanting to alarm an already-nervous David, said, "Um, there's a lot of people there."

David still paled. Lorraine craned her head around to the back seat, appearing interested, if not slightly uneasy.

Blaine continued. "Listen, I have a parking space reserved for you right outside the main entrance, but, there's so much going on that, without someone out there to watch that it stays unoccupied, I can't guarantee it'll be there long. I also have seats reserved for the four of you, but the same applies. Just, the sooner you get here, the better."

Paul maneuvered his car through the parking lot at OSU Lima and found the reserved space. There was a young man standing there in the parking space. As Paul lowered his window, the young man spoke.

"This space is reserved for our guest-speaker."

Paul replied, pointing to the back seat with this thumb, "That's my son."

The young man moved out of the way, allowing Paul to park his car. The car's four occupants climbed out of the car and proceeded toward the main entrance. David was visibly nervous, but he walked quickly.

Once inside, finding the lecture hall was easy as there was a crowd of people congregating around the entrance. Just inside the door, Blaine was standing and talking to a taller young man. As soon as Blaine sighted Kurt, David, and David's parents, his face took on an excited expression and he waved them toward the room.

"Hey, this is Ronald," Blaine introduced the taller man to David. "You talked to him on the phone. Ronald, this is Dave Karofsky."

"I'm so glad that you could make it tonight, Dave; nice to finally meet you," Ronald reached for David's hand.

David returned the handshake nervously. "Nice to meet you as well. These are my mom and dad and my friend Kurt."

Ronald greeted and shook hands with the three others quickly while Blaine intervened.

"Your seats are still unoccupied right at the front," Blaine hurriedly tried to usher them to their destination.

"Blaine, can you just show my parents to the seats, and they can save mine and Kurt's?" David asked. "I really need to hit a restroom."

"Yeah, no problem," Blaine said, accommodatingly, relieved that they'd arrived. "Hey, the restrooms are out, down the hall to the right and then make another right. They're on the left-hand side of the hall. Look for the signs, and you can't miss them."

Kurt accompanied David down the hall and made the right turn with him. "David, I can tell you're nervous," Kurt volunteered.

David looked at Kurt with an anxious expression, pleading eyes. "I am _really_ nervous, Kurt. I have no idea what I'm gonna say in there, but, right now, I really need to piss."

Kurt shook his head and tried to stifle a smile. "Okay, I'll be right here waiting for you."

As Kurt waited, he saw several people wearing black shirts with large pink lettering which he couldn't quite decipher. Then he watched as a young lady who was wearing one as she walked toward his direction, and he was able to read the words: _CHOKE ON IT, HATERS_. He stopped the person before they went any further.

"Where did you get that shirt?" Kurt asked, smiling and excited.

"Um, there's a couple of guys in there giving them out," the young woman answered, pointing toward the lecture hall. "They don't have very many though, and they might be out of them by now."

Kurt smiled, thinking to himself that it's fortunate for David that the video of his commencement rant isn't terribly clear, or he'd have never made it to the restroom without getting mobbed. David returned to Kurt's location after a few minutes. "Better now?" Kurt asked David.

"Little bit," David replied.

"Have you noticed the black shirts with pink letters people are wearing?" Kurt said as they walked, passing a pair of them on their way.

"Uh, just now that you mentioned it," David answered. "My brain's kinda doing donuts right now."

"Well," Kurt answered mischievously, "you're just going to have to see one up close then."

David's mind was so occupied that he dismissed Kurt's comment immediately; by this time, they were at the entry to the lecture hall.

David and Kurt entered slowly. David visually located his parents sitting near the front of the crowded, noisy room with Blaine standing nearby talking with them when, over the noisy din, he heard a gruff voice call out, "Cap'n Dave!"

David spun around, wide-eyed, to see Ricky and Rod standing toward the rear of the hall. David forgot completely about his spinning brain and bolted toward them. By the time he reached them, he was beaming a huge smile. "Holy crap, what are you guys doing here?"

"We heard about it," Rod spoke, smiling, "and there's no way we would have missed it."

David hugged Rod first, then, releasing him, turned to Ricky who gave him a rough-but-affectionate hug. Ricky spoke upon letting David go. "We heard about what happened back in February, and we were just devastated. We wanted to go see you in the hospital, but we weren't sure how that would have gone over."

David was nearly speechless. He spied Tom and Michael just behind Rod and Ricky and pushed his way past them to hug the two of them. "It's amazing that you guys all came out here, thanks."

"We know you had a tough time," Tom said, "We heard about that, but we also heard about the good stuff that's happened since then."

"We're happy for you, Dave," Rod added. "We're all happy you're still here."

"We all saw the video of your commencement," Ricky added boisterously. "Of course, the downside to that is that _everybody_ saw that video meaning that you won't be allowed back in Scandals for a few years because everyone now knows how old you are."

"Downside for _whom_?" Kurt interjected, a sassy expression on his face.

All four men began to laugh as David said, "I want you to meet my very good friend, Kurt."

Kurt greeted and shook hands with all of the men as Ricky told David quietly, "I saved you a shirt."

Ricky tossed into David's arms a black sweatshirt screened in pink lettering with the slogan _CHOKE ON IT, HATERS_. David held it before himself and read the words, looking to Ricky, elated surprise on his face, "Where did this come from?"

Ricky and Rod laughed to each other as Rod explained. "We placed an order to have them made on Saturday as soon as we heard you'd be here tonight."

David shook his head, grinning. "You guys are crazy, and I love you. How did you find out about all of this?"

"That young guy who comes to Scandals told us about what happened with you back in February," Ricky explained. "Then, he filled us in on what happened last week and showed us the video of your 'commencement speech'."

" _What_ young guy?" David asked, somewhat taken aback as Kurt returned to David's side, listening.

"Um, I never caught his name, but he's here tonight," Ricky replied.

Blaine approached, seeming anxious. "Ronald is bugging me to get you in place and get this underway, Dave."

"Yeah, sorry," David answered, "I ran into some friends I haven't seen in months."

Blaine nodded, understanding.

"Hey," Ricky, pointing to a location across the crowded room, caught David's attention, "that's the kid over there, the one who kept us up-to-date with what was going on with you."

David and Kurt simultaneously threw their gaze in the direction of the place where Ricky was pointing. David's mood fell somewhat when he saw a familiar dark-blonde-haired young man.

"I know that guy," David said quietly to Kurt. "I never knew his name, but I don't really like him."

Kurt nodded. "I don't like him much either. His name is Sebastian. Let's just get you up front where they're waiting for you."

Kurt and Blaine pulled David through the crowded aisle toward the front of the large room. Most of the seats appeared to be occupied, and the aisles were nearly filled with standing people. "I think there is probably two-hundred or two-hundred-fifty people here," Blaine estimated.

"I didn't think there was that many gay people in Lima," Kurt answered.

"There are people who came here in groups from Cleveland, Youngstown, Columbus, Dayton, Fort Wayne: they came from all over," Blaine explained. "Power of the internet."

"Whoa, wait, hang on a second, guys," David spoke loudly to Blaine and Kurt, "I just saw someone I wanna say something to."

"Please be brief," Blaine nearly whined, "We'll just wait here for you."

David backtracked a few yards and into a section of seats to see a familiar person standing alone.

"Aaron?" David spoke.

Aaron gave a half-grin. "Hey, Dave."

"Um, what are you doing here?"

"I overheard your friend talking about this the other night when we were at the snack bar at the bowling alley. I thought I'd come. I didn't know it would be like this."

"Uh, believe me, _I_ didn't know it would be like this," David agreed and paused, shaking his head, confused, before continuing. "Um, without being too personal, like, _what's up_?"

"Um," Aaron looked downward, as if slightly embarrassed and spoke in a hushed tone. "It's my little brother. I'm here for him. I think he's gay. I mean, I'm pretty sure he's gay, and I want to be there for him when, you know, he tells us. I want him to know that I'm alright with it."

David could tell that Aaron was uncomfortable with the words. David responded sincerely, quietly. "It's okay, I know it's not easy to talk about. Uh, what makes you think that your brother is gay."

"I checked out his computer. He's got stuff on there that a straight person wouldn't have. Some of the websites he's visited. Stuff like that. But I kinda knew before that."

"How old is he?" David asked.

"He's fourteen."

David paled. "How do you think your parents are gonna take it?"

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know," his tone was grave. "My dad's on his case all the time about acting like a sissy and stuff. My dad's kinda bad with stuff like that. I don't think it will be good."

David shook his head. "This is out of my depth, Aaron. I don't want to give you the wrong advice or anything, but I can find you someone to talk to. I mean, you can talk to me, but I don't know how much I could help in your situation."

"Dave," Blaine called out, nearly frantic, a few steps behind where David was standing.

"Blaine," David waited for Blaine's approach, "you remember Aaron from the other night."

Blaine's expression softened with surprise when he saw Aaron.

"Hey, Aaron, tell Blaine what you just told me," David spoke. "He's more involved with this organization. He can find you the right people to talk to." David paused for a moment before hugging Aaron briefly and saying, "You're doing the right thing, the right thing by your brother."

David turned to Blaine. "I can find my way to the front; if you can just talk to Aaron right now, that would be cool."

Blaine nodded, and David found his way back to Kurt.

"Everything okay?" Kurt asked, concern in his voice.

"Yeah," David smiled, small but certain, "Everything's good."

As the two made their way closer to their seats, politely pushing through the groups of people standing in the aisle, Kurt could hear people mutter words indicating that they possibly recognized David. Kurt smiled to himself. David, however, seemed to be blocking everything out, determined to focus.

Finally reaching the front of the room and the two seats which were being held for them, Ronald met David and started to speak.

"How do you want me to introduce you?"

David gave a blank expression, facing downward into nothing in particular. "I really don't know."

Ronald appeared puzzled. "I mean, do you want me to call you an historian? A journalist? The new voice of youth activism?"

David shook his head and looked at Ronald directly. "I'm none of those things. I'm just a guy who had a lot of stuff happen to him really quickly. Really bad stuff followed by really good stuff. I just graduated high school, and I didn't foresee any of this."

"Internet sensation?" Ronald offered.

"Definitely do _not_ call me that," David expressed with a look of fear on his face.

"I'll come up with something, but I need to get this thing moving," Ronald spoke. "It's almost six o'clock."

Kurt had taken his seat, but David remained standing, handing his sweatshirt over to Kurt to hold for him. Kurt motioned for David to sit, but David, though making eye-contact and reading Kurt's signal continued to stand. Kurt stood meaning to speak to David, but David spoke first.

"Kurt, I'm drawing a blank. I have no idea what I'm gonna say when I get up there."

Kurt looked up at David's face. It _was_ blank: even the expressions of nervousness and anxiety were gone. Kurt shook his head, trying to be disarming, speaking quietly. "David, just be yourself. This whole thing was you being you. The way you brought yourself back up from what happened months ago, the way you dealt with your mom, your project was entirely you, and what happened last week at your commencement, David, that was just you. There was no script for any of that. Just say what comes to you."

David looked back at Kurt, and his blank expression took on a hint of strength. "I can't sit down, though; too nervous," David spoke quietly back to Kurt. "But that helped," David nodded, though it was barely perceptible.

Ronald stepped behind the podium and tested the microphone briefly to a squeal of feedback which reverberated slightly before the level was adjusted. Kurt continued to stand beside David, opting not to return to his seat.

"Okay, I'm Ronald, and this was supposed to be a regular PFLAG meeting. All of that changed at about four-thirty this afternoon when the common areas of the campus began filling up with people arriving by the carload from, in some cases, hundreds of miles away. Just a couple of announcements. Next month, we'll be back to our regular schedule of the first Tuesday of the month. You can check the website if you're in doubt. Always a good idea to check there for last-minute changes. There are flyers on the table outside the room for other upcoming events. All that information is linked on the website also. Anyone who was expecting or maybe needing a regular meeting or individual counseling can get in touch with us via the website. Also, for a more immediate response, check the links for the support network, also on the website."

The room full of people had hushed somewhat, though there was still an audible ambient white noise, the presence of the large assembly was palpable despite their quiet.

Ronald continued. "Okay, here we go. I really don't know how to introduce our guest. He's just graduated high school, but, judging by the size of this crowd, he's made a mark; he's made a difference. I think he's as stunned by his reception here as we are glad to have him. Please give a warm welcome to Society for Modern History 2012 award recipient and a guy who has shaken things up a little, Lima, Ohio's own David Karofsky."

Ronald backed away from the microphone, applauding politely with the crowd. David slowly moved himself toward the podium as Kurt placed his hand gently on David's back as he moved away: a gesture of support and strength. The applause quieted until David centered himself at the podium and raised his head, looking outward at which point the applause became louder. Yells and whoops could be heard, and David smiled small-but-dazed as his eyes moved across the roomful of people.

David began speaking into the microphone. Though his voice was low, it carried clearly through the sound system.

"Okay, I really didn't come with anything prepared to say, but, then, I didn't expect all of this. I'm going to try not to sound like a total mess up here."

"Choke on it, haters!" a group of people shouted in unison from one side of the room and the applause erupted again. David smiled and shook his head in disbelief, closing his eyes for a moment. When the noise subsided, he spoke again.

"I first heard about PFLAG almost exactly a year ago. Someone who has become a very good friend dropped the name of the organization on me. I was struggling with something, and, had I been involved then, it could have saved me and my family a lot of grief. The thing was, I was still too afraid to get to that point. It would have taken someone persistent, persistent to the point of imposing, to get me to admit that I really could have benefitted from something like this. I could go on about how the network and the community and the organizations do important work and help a lot of people, but I know that I'd be preaching to the choir here. The thing is, there are people everywhere in the same place I was at that time. So many of us probably know people who are struggling with their identities who are just too afraid to move forward and seek out the support that they need. I'm not saying that we should all make nuisances out of ourselves, I mean, that wouldn't work at all, it certainly wouldn't have worked for me; but tactfully reaching out to someone might make a huge difference. Okay, I was too stubborn to admit that something like this could have helped me; and I was too afraid to take that step. My reluctance only got me to the worst place I'd ever been, and no one should go through what I did. I felt like I was alone for no reason. The people who stuck by me since then were there all along; all I would have needed to do was say the word, and they'd have been there. I lost a couple of friends, or maybe people I only assumed were my friends, but the number of real friends, friends I didn't even know I had, have had my back ever since. It was hard for my family, but my parents are everything I could want them to be; and my parents are right here." David smiled and gestured toward his parents as the assembly applauded politely. "If anything I've done has become some kind of inspiration to people, it's because the support of my parents and my friends put me in a place where I could do these things. Their support continues to strengthen and humble me. And, this tonight, all of the people here, I really don't understand. It's kinda blown my mind, but in a good way."

At this point, David turned away from the microphone and signalled for Ronald, speaking to him softly as not to be picked up by the microphone. "I really don't know what else I have to say at this point, Ronald, before I start talking in circles and repeating myself."

"Do you want to answer some questions from the people here maybe?" Ronald offered.

"Yeah, that sounds okay, but you pick the people out, I'm a little overwhelmed," David answered.

Ronald approached the podium and spoke. "Dave has kindly offered to answer questions if anyone has something they'd like to ask. Just, like, show where you are, and I'll select you from here."

Several hands went into the air. Ronald expected this, though he'd never done anything quite like this before; David continued to be surprised by the reaction.

"Oh, and you'll need to speak up because I don't have another microphone to get out to you," Ronald added, "and if the rest of you could be as quiet as possible while the questions are being asked, that'd be appreciated."

Ronald pointed to a girl near the center of the room: "Blonde girl in the blue shirt?"

"Yeah," she spoke in a clearly audible voice above the ambient room noise, "Did you prepare what you said at your commencement?"

David smiled at the suggestion, looking suddenly more at ease. "No, not at all. I wasn't supposed to speak. I was to walk up, get my award and my diploma, and sit back down. They had a plan that, if it looked like there might be a disturbance, I was to be whisked quietly off of the stage. They hired a bunch of security for it; but the security was late in responding, and there was no way I was going to keep quiet at that point. I just took the opportunity and ran with it."

The blonde girl added, somewhat out of turn as Ronald searched the crowd for another question, "But the video, did you plan on getting that video out there?"

"No, absolutely not," David added. "A friend of mine shot that. I had no idea he was doing it at the time, and I was stunned when I found out it was posted and getting so many hits. I was almost uncomfortable about it, actually."

“Man on the far side,” Ronald identified as quiet applause followed David’s statement, “blue-striped shirt.”

As the room quieted, the man, who appeared to be in his thirties and very casual-looking spoke with a raised-but-polite level to his voice. “I saw your history project online. I read the text and listened to the audio. It’s really impressive work and way beyond what I'd think of as a student project. Was it your specific experience that made you decide to take on that topic?”

The room applauded at the question as David nodded and smiled small but proudly as he addressed the room. “Thank you. I guess I should talk about my project a little, I mean, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that. My history course required an oral history project as part of the final grade. I originally had a different topic, but I wasn’t getting anywhere with it. Right after my difficulties at school, it dawned on me that addressing the topic of being out in my local area seemed really obvious. I knew enough people and had already made several contacts so I knew that I had more than enough potential interviews. The interviews themselves gave me a ton of material for the project. The idea of the unusual way I constructed the audio just kinda seemed natural, like an open discussion. My instructor was very happy with the end result and submitted it to the Society for Modern History. They liked it enough to give it an award. Though I wasn’t attending classes at the school where I began my senior year, I was still technically working through them for my diploma. When I won the award, they made arrangements for it to be presented to me at the commencement ceremony. One thing just kinda led to the next. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I decided to work on that topic that what I was doing was so relevant, I mean, what’s going on in our community right now could be changing history for us, and I was documenting it. And, yeah, the bad things that occurred earlier in the year definitely resulted in the whole focus of the project happening the way it did. It was a tough time for me, but I’m happy that something good came out of it, that might be doing some good for people who are in the difficult situation that I was in a few months ago.”

The crowd applauded enthusiastically. Ronald waited for them to quiet before signaling another questioner, “Man on the left side in the gray jacket.”

"Not to sound cynical or anything, but given that you're here now and what you've accomplished, it's hard for me to think that you'd have anything to complain about," the man began. "I mean, you're talking about how bad things are for so many people and how help is out there, but it's also in evidence how good things have turned around for you personally. Can you justify that?"

The room quietly groaned somewhat, and David shook his head, appearing almost disgusted. "I hope you're being objective or playing devil's advocate or something because what you're insinuating kinda disturbs me. You can say that things are great for me right now, and I'd agree; but I almost became a statistic. I don't know how anyone can ignore the gravity of that. Sure, from the perspective I have right now, it's hard for me to sound credible if I should say that I regret anything; but there's no way that I should have needed to almost die to get here. If telling the story of what I went through can help anybody at all, I'd do it without hesitation. You can say that I wouldn't be here now without having been through all of that, but I would never even suggest that the way that I got here is a viable template for anything. That's just nonsense."

The room filled with applause as Ronald selected another questioner. "Young man, glasses and beard, second row."

The young man stood, smiling wearing hipster-style clothes, his dark hair attractively messy. "Thanks for taking my question. What do you consider to be your future as an activist?"

David puzzled for a moment before speaking. "I never really thought about that."

The young man continued, "Do you consider yourself to be an activist?"

David was silent for a moment, appearing thoughtful. "At the end of the day, I want the same rights, privileges, and protections that everyone else enjoys. If I feel I'm being denied that, I'll fight for it in whatever capacity I'm comfortable with. If that makes me an activist, I guess that's what I am. I want to see myself in five or ten years' time living comfortably, hopefully with a partner, without the fear of physical violence or denial of basic rights and privileges. That's a cause I'd take up at any time as circumstances required for myself or anyone else, really."

"So you're single?" a voice interjected from an unknown source, causing the rest of the gathering to laugh quietly and David to smirk and blush.

"Yes, I'm single, but I'm not planning to change that just yet."

Laughs and quiet applause rang from the crowd as Ronald scanned the audience for another questioner. "Tall girl, black hair, black T-shirt?"

The girl, serious, thoughtful expression, stood and spoke. "Hi. Thanks for taking my question. When you began speaking, you talked about reaching out to people who might need help, but you suggested yourself that you wouldn't have been receptive to such actions a year ago. How does one go about getting through to someone who might be in a similar situation as you were then?"

David's face became serious but empathetic. "I don't have an answer for that, and I wish I did. None of this is easy. I remember a time for me when any understanding voice or presence would have gotten through to me. It was a very small window, but it was there. Everyone is different. Some people are going to be more receptive than others. I was probably a worst-case scenario in that respect. I guess all we can do is to be watchful and attentive for when that window is open. I don't think there is an exact answer."

Further questions revealed that the interests of the audience were sliding into the frivolous and left David sometimes without response. Ronald read this as an appropriate time to end the formal meeting early, leaving additional time for the process of clearing out the room and giving the crowd an opportunity to meet and talk with David one-on-one.

David found himself shaking hands chatting with more people than he could count, let alone remember. He was cheered to find that some of his interviewees had come: Hiram and Leroy Berry came with Rachel and Finn (the dads cited it as a "family activity" consisting of parents, child, and future son-in-law; Finn complimented David on his speaking, noting that he "never got bored"; Rachel, for her turn, hugged and kissed David for being such an "exemplary example of performing under unforeseen conditions").

David was especially surprised to see interviewee Roger who commented enthusiastically to David. "When I was young, we didn't have meetings that celebrated and supported what we were. Everything we did was conducted at night and behind closed doors; and everyone felt that they needed to hide everything. It's wonderful to see all of these beautiful young people now able to embrace who they are and help each other."

In the midst of the dispersing crowd, David was able to pull Aaron aside and exchange telephone numbers with him in the interest of Aaron's brother or perhaps another game of pool.

Kurt and David's parents made their way slowly through the crowd and to the corridor just outside the lecture hall. Paul and Lorraine found seats on a bench in the hallway and waited for David there. Kurt entered the room again, rejoining with David, fearing he'd miss something worthwhile if he stayed outside away too long. David was talking to Gretchen, Johnno, and Sean who were enthusiastic as ever. Blaine stopped by to speak briefly, but eventually found himself busy with restoring the room to its pre-meeting order. Kurt didn't need to wait very long for something worthwhile to happen.

A tall, thin, sandy-haired boy in fine casual attire nervously approached Kurt and David.

"Hi, Kurt," the boy said, quietly but properly.

"Oh, hello, Sebastian," Kurt answered with a touch of dismissive arrogance.

Sebastian faced over to a suspicious-looking David who wore a slight scowl on his face.

"That was a very good, um, talk you gave," Sebastian offered.

"Thank you," David replied politely though his facial expression was nonplussed.

Sebastian exhaled loudly as if summoning some level of courage. "I wanted to say, no, I _need_ to say, that I really didn't know you at all, but I said things to you a few months ago that were inexcusable; and I apologize for that."

David appeared unmoved. "Go on," he nodded.

Sebastian appeared stunned at the response. "I had it easy, but, even so, the last thing any of us should be told is that we should go back in the closet." Sebastian's expression became more formal. "When I heard about what happened, I felt terrible."

"Don't flatter yourself," David said, dismissive, indifferent.

"What?" Sebastian appeared stunned further.

"You weren't the reason. Your conscience is clean." David paused for a moment before completing, "But I accept your apology."

Confounded, Sebastian's tone took on a hint of anger. "I'm trying to be a better person and do the right thing here."

David replied bluntly. "That's a good thing. You can turn heads with your style and guys will drag their balls through mud and broken glass to get with you now, but that insulting, elitist wit of yours won't serve you so well when you're in your forties, alcoholic, and alone." David turned his attention to Kurt. "You ready to get outta here?"

"Sure," Kurt replied brightly as the two turned their backs on Sebastian and walked toward the corridor where Paul and Lorraine waited for them.

The thirty-minute drive from OSU Lima to David's house was quiet but warm. Paul and Lorraine had both told David that they were incredibly proud of the way he'd spoken and the things he'd said. Kurt was mostly quiet, smiling to himself and occasionally glancing over at David. David appeared exhausted but satisfied, spending most of the ride with his head back and eyes closed.

As they removed themselves from Paul's car upon arriving at their destination, Paul and Lorraine went directly into the house after saying parting words to Kurt. Kurt and David stood outside as Kurt prepared to climb into his Navigator.

"David, this was an incredible night," Kurt said through a tired smile. "I have finals tomorrow, but this was more-than-worth a compromised grade or two."

David snickered. "I think I just want to go in and get to sleep." David lingered, not moving despite what he just said. "Kurt, thanks for coming tonight. For being there with me. It meant a lot to me. To have you there."

Kurt smiled, the fatigue lifted from his face. "David, you were great. And you were totally yourself, just like I said you should be. And that thing with Sebastian? Just exquisite."

At that David smiled. It was nearly smug.

"I should be on my way," Kurt said to David as he opened the door to his car.

"And I should go in and get to sleep," David replied.

"Good night, David."

"Good night. Talk to you tomorrow, Kurt."

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: This is the chapter I've been wanting to write since I started this piece months ago.
> 
> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate words this chapter: 14,500

**Chapter 34**

 

**Friday, May 18**

"Good afternoon, David," Kurt spoke into his phone, answering it in a somewhat contorted posture, juggling doorknob and messenger bag, having just opened his front door.

"Hey," David spoke, a questioning air to his voice, "You sound a little frantic there, Kurt."

Kurt huffed loudly after gaining control of the front door and dropping the messenger bag on the first patch of unoccupied floor. "I'm sorry, David, you caught me just walking in through the front door. Last day of finals, and I'm a bit frazzled. How was your day?"

"Ah, pretty boring," David admitted. "But after the last couple of weeks, boring is okay. Well, I did talk to Rupert about me maybe getting some work over the summer as a tutor. He thinks I'd be good for, like, kids who need help in math to get through summer school."

"So, dinner with the parents tonight?" Kurt asked.

"No," David answered. "My parents are in Bar Harbor for the weekend. They left yesterday. I thought I told you."

"That's right, you did tell me that yesterday," Kurt verbally corrected himself. "I guess I was just too busy with this finals schedule. I am glad it's over. Oh, and your wild couple of weeks spilled into mine, I think."

David laughed. "You were there for a lot of it, Kurt." David paused, silent for a moment. "I think it's stuff we'll always remember."

"I have no doubt about that, David. Any plans for tonight?"

"No, honestly, after these past few weeks, I'm kinda looking forward to a quiet night at home. It probably won't last. I think Strando wants to do something tomorrow, but I was just looking forward to doing nothing tonight."

Both were quiet before David asked, "Hummel-Hudson weekend reunion tonight?"

"No," Kurt answered, "actually Dad and Carole are staying the weekend in DC and coming back part-way through next week for my and Finn's commencement."

"You have dinner plans?" David asked.

"No," Kurt replied. "I was going to make something for myself. Who knows when Finn and Sam will be around?"

"Yeah, dinner alone here too," David affected a glum tone. "I was just going to order some take-out or something."

"Actually," Kurt spoke, "Given the way I feel after this week, I don't know sold on the idea of cooking I am right now."

"Hey," David's voice perked, affected again. "I have an idea. Why don't you come over here, or I could come over there if you like, and we could have dinner alone together?"

Kurt laughed, rolling his eyes. "Okay, that got an actual eye-roll out of me, the 'dinner alone together' part. Other than that, it's a nice idea, but I'd prefer your place because I never know what time Finn and Sam are going to roll in. It's been too long since we had one of those times where we just sat around and talked. I missed it weeks ago, and I don't miss it any less now."

"Sounds like a plan. What time do you plan on being here?"

"I don't know," Kurt answered. "Is five-thirty or six o'clock okay?"

"Yeah, that's good. It's not even three-thirty now." David paused for a moment. "You know, you could crash here tonight. The folks are away, and it'd make sense if we go running tomorrow morning."

"I might take you up on that offer. Sometimes Sam rolls in late if he's doing a DJ gig. It can be totally disrupting."

"Okay, well, I'm going to run a few errands before you come over here then," David spoke quickly, "I'll make sure I have some diet soda around here for you."

Kurt dramatically exhaled, a near-sigh, "Such a thorough host. Okay, David. I'll see you around five-thirty then."

Kurt arrived at David's house at five-forty. David opened the door, casually smiling, and let him into the entryway. Kurt was dressed in a plain gray sweatshirt with loose-fitting jeans (well, loose for Kurt). and a casual charcoal-colored jacket. He was carrying his accessory bag as well as two overnight bags.

"Thanks for comin' over, Kurt," David greeted, the smile still apparent on his face. "You can drop those bags in the spare bedroom if you like. I'll be in the kitchen. We can look at some take-out menus and decide what we want for dinner."

"Okay," Kurt replied, almost a whisper. "Meet you in the kitchen."

Kurt dropped his bags and his jacket on the bed in the spare room, fished for a greeting card he'd slipped into his messenger bag, found the card, and departed for the kitchen, greeting card in hand, as discreetly as possible.

He entered the kitchen and approached David who was sitting at the table rifling through take-out restaurant menus of many different sizes and shapes. "There must me ten or twelve menus there," Kurt observed.

"I think there's more than that," David replied, sounding almost embarrassed. "Remember, before Mom came back, Dad and I were eating take-out five nights a week."

"Yes, I remember."

"What are you in the mood for, Kurt?"

Kurt rolled his eyes upward, a dramatic thinking expression, and said, "What about that place you ordered those subs from a while ago?"

"Dude, that's, like, one of my favorite things," David answered. "I'm always up for that if you are."

"That settles it, then," Kurt said, smiling.

"Okay, then, we can split one of their big salads and one of the subs?" David suggested.

Kurt puzzled slightly as David reached for his telephone. "Eating light tonight, David?" Kurt asked, "I've watched you put away twice that."

"Well, yeah," David discounted with a scheming expression on his face as he dialed the restaurant, "We can always snack on something later if we get hungry."

Kurt nodded reluctantly. "Post-dinner empty calories."

David placed the order and collected the take-out menus, placing them in a drawer beneath the kitchen countertop. "They said it'd be about a half-hour or forty minutes. That alright?" David returned to his seat at the kitchen table, and Kurt sat at the chair across from him.

"That's fine," Kurt said, "I'm hungry, but I'm not, like, dying or anything." Kurt slid the greeting card he'd been holding across the table, and it came to a stop in front of David. David eyed the envelope curiously.

"You already gave me a card for my graduation, Kurt." David said, a slight, unsure smile on his face.

Kurt smiled. "It's not a graduation card. Just open it."

David untucked the flap of the unsealed cream-colored envelope and removed the card. On its face was a black-and-white photo, presumably a period photo, of a handsome man in nineteen-twenties-era formal attire. Behind him was an architectural embellishment in an art deco design. The image was striking, handsome, completely masculine-looking but elegant. "Really cool picture, Kurt," David spoke softly as if somewhat taken aback.

"I knew you'd like it," Kurt responded, equally quiet.

David opened the card. It was a blank notecard on which Kurt had written in his distinctive, perfect penmanship:

_David,_  
 _Will you allow me to be proud of you now? Please?  
_ _Kurt_

David was silent for a moment. He was stunned by the message in the card and reminded of that moment during which, in a place of rage and loneliness, he'd denied Kurt that particular privilege. "Of course, Kurt." David said quietly, almost a whisper, facing his head downward, almost as if in shame; his face twisted slightly, mixing a failed smile with the appearance that he might be trying to suppress tears. "I should not have said that to you back then."

Kurt smiled faintly, understanding, empathetic. "I think I know why you said it to me, David. You needed to feel proud of yourself before you'd let anyone else be proud of you." David's smile became more genuine, if slightly defeated, but his eyes retained their heavy, guilty expression as Kurt continued. "David, you have so much to be proud of."

David almost laughed, a laugh of futile realization as his smile became more genuine and his eyes watered but never spilled; David was relieved in that. "Damn, Kurt. You get me." David spoke just above a whisper, still reluctant to raise his head.

"David, look at me," Kurt spoke, louder this time as David raised his head, eyes visibly heavy and holding back tears. "I am so proud of you, David," Kurt spoke directly at David; David's smile widened but he faced downward immediately, too humble to accept the honor.

Kurt stood and walked to David's side of the table, stopping beside the chair in which David was seated. "Stand up?" Kurt requested. David slid his chair out slowly and stood, turning slowly to face Kurt as, in part of the same motion, Kurt wrapped David in a firm embrace which David returned instinctively. David wasn't anywhere near crying any longer, but his breaths were deep as if exhausted by the exchange of the last two minutes. He held Kurt in his arms firmly and comfortably, absorbing the energy of the moment. Kurt and David parted after some time, David's face purged of the uncertainty and doubt of a minute before.

"Hey," David spoke, shaking his head slightly and pointing upward. "I'm going to go run upstairs. I have something for you, actually."

"Ooh!" Kurt's eyes widened and expression piqued.

David grabbed the card Kurt had given to him and left the room for the stairway as Kurt followed, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "Hey!" Kurt called up to David. "Could you bring down your laptop? There's something I want to show you."

David returned a few minutes later, entering the kitchen, laptop in hand, flinging a black garment at Kurt, landing it on Kurt's chest, David wearing the same facial expression he'd worn while throwing slushies two years prior.

Kurt uncrumpled the fabric revealing it to be a _CHOKE ON IT, HATERS_ T-shirt. "Omigod! Thank you! I wanted one of these!" Kurt smiled and pulled the shirt close to his chest as David grinned, satisfied in himself, booting his laptop.

"Is it your size?" David asked after a moment.

"Yes it is," Kurt replied, checking the tag. "It won't be tight on me, but it will fit like a proper T-shirt."

"The other night, I happened to trade phone numbers with the guys who had them made. They had a few of them left over. I guess I lucked-out on the size." David paused, readying his laptop. "What did you want to show me on the laptop?"

"A video of the New Directions' award-winning performance at Nationals is up on the National Show Choir site if you'd like to see it," Kurt informed while neatly folding the T-shirt lengthwise and slinging it over one shoulder.

"Sure, definitely," David said loudly, agreeable. "Do you want to get to that site? Be my guest." David gestured Kurt toward the keyboard as Kurt took the seat beside David and typed the information into the browser.

The site came up immediately with several videos available for viewing. Kurt clicked a selection. "This was our closing number, I think it was what won it for us."

"Hey, I _know_ this song!" David said, smiling. "There's Quinn, dancing."

"Yes, it's great that she had recovered and was able to do that," Kurt explained.

"Man," David grinned, "Finn looks kinda great."

"He's still not the best dancer, but he's improved vastly from eight months ago."

"He's kinda," David spoke, hesitant on getting the next word out as if not entirely comfortable with saying it, _"sexy."_

"Yeah," Kurt agreed easily. "I think everybody is sexy when they're doing something that they're good at. Finn may not be as good a dancer as Mike Chang or even Puck, but he's improved, and he's an excellent front-man. It doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes."

"Speaking of Puck, there he is," David noted Puck's presence in the video. "Puck is kind-of a hot guy, but some of the locker-room stories he'd tell, or the ones that he _didn't_ tell that got around anyway, were, like, slutty, almost to the point of being creepy."

Kurt agreed, no real humor in his delivery, "Puck is a dear, dear friend and has an incredible heart, but I get the feeling that he could stick his dick into anything that was of legal age as long as it had an orifice and a pulse."

David nearly paled. " _Dude_ , I don't believe you just said that. That was vulgar in a way I don't think _I_ could have put it."

Kurt laughed. "Tell me I'm wrong, David."

David shook his head. "No, it was definitely an astute observation." David's eyes were fixed on the screen. "Hey, there's you and Blaine." David's delivery developed an almost regrettable quality. "The two of you sing and dance so well together."

Kurt nodded, a serious expression. "We do work well together that way, I must admit."

"How are things since you two, like, called it?"

"David, I think Blaine and I will be dear friends for a long time, probably friends for the rest of our lives. Our relationship, though, I think was a phase for both of us. Hard as the breakup was for him, I think he realizes that now."

"Do you think he misses being in a relationship with you?" David asked, sincerely concerned.

"Blaine maybe misses being in a relationship, but I think he also realizes that the two of us just weren't clicking; that there wasn't anywhere further for our relationship to go."

Kurt suddenly was distracted. He noticed that David's lips were moving along with the words to the song.

_Though it's cold and lonely in the deep, dark night  
_ _I can see paradise by the dashboard light_

David was singing. It was quiet, barely audible over the music on the video, but there was sound coming from his mouth as he stared forward into the screen. David had obviously not meant for it to be heard, but it was there. Kurt was tickled. Though he wouldn't ruin the moment by mentioning it, it was somehow perfect: David Karofsky was singing, and the only person to see or hear it was Kurt. Kurt felt privileged at this.

The song shifted to its next part, and David ceased singing, intently watching and listening. "Whoa," David nearly exclaimed.

"What?" Kurt eyed the screen for some previously-unnoticed performance gaffe.

"Rachel," David answered, "she's... _hot_." David paused, watching. "I'd have never in my life thought I'd use that adjective to describe Rachel Berry. I mean, it's not like I thought she's _ugly_ or anything, but it's the whole attitude she's got here."

"That's an amazing thing about Rachel," Kurt explained. "She undergoes a complete transformation when she performs. If the song calls for her to be 'hot', which this one does, she projects it."

"Her voice is just amazing," David added.

"The person from NYADA was in the audience at this performance," Kurt said. "She was so impressed with Rachel that they're considering her again."

"That's awesome news," David voiced as he continued to watch the video, the song winding to a close, the video ending.

"Thanks for showing that to me, Kurt," David said, turning to face Kurt. "I mean, I really don't have a credible opinion or an understanding of the judging criteria, but it sounded great and it seemed to me like you people nailed it in all respects."

"Thank you, David," Kurt replied. "Even if you think that your opinion isn't terribly valid, I disagree. Any opinion is valid as long as you're giving it a fair listen."

David looked over at Kurt, nodding, a small smile on his face. David's gaze fell to Kurt's hand. He noticed that Kurt was wearing the black-and-pink glass ring. "Is that thing heavy on your hand?" David asked.

"No, it's really not," Kurt replied. "It _is_ glass, and it appears to be a big _chunk_ of glass, but it's lighter than you'd think." Kurt slid it from his finger and handed it to David.

"You're right. It's lighter than I thought it would be. It's cool. I never noticed illusion of depth between the bands of color."

"Try it on," Kurt offered.

David gave a wrinkled smirk. "Kurt, you wear it as a pinky-ring. There's no way it would fit me." To prove himself correct, David slid the ring onto his left pinky showing that it wouldn't move further than part-way past the first knuckle.

Kurt gave David a silly smile. "Well, I honestly wasn't sure." David held out his hand, holding the ring, placing it into Kurt's open palm. "Did you ever get a class ring?" Kurt asked.

"No," David answered, "my parents wanted to get me one when McKinley won the football championship, one of those football-themed ones, but I didn't think it was really me; I just don't see myself as a jewelry-kinda-guy."

Kurt stared at David, one of his deep, penetrating stares that made David slightly uneasy. "Okay," David spoke, "you are giving me one of those looks like you're looking right through me." David retained his smile despite the unease; he'd somehow grown accustomed to feeling, the downside of someone 'getting' him so well. "What did I just say or do that you're somehow going to prove to me is a lie?"

Kurt shook his head and dropped his eyes from David. "Nothing. Sorry. Must have been a misfire."

David smirked, a huff of a laugh.

"So," Kurt began, "who were those guys who had those T-shirts at the PFLAG meeting?"

"Oh, Ricky and Rod," David answered. "I met them at Scandals last fall. Rod was the first guy to be friendly with me. Those guys kinda took me under their wing. Genuinely nice guys, and they kinda looked after me. Rod figured out that I was underage." David pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket. "I had Sean take a picture of me with them at the PFLAG meeting."

David opened the gallery on his phone and flipped through the photos, stopping on the picture he was seeking. "Here it is. The tall one on the left is Ricky, he's fun but kinda nuts. The shorter guy beside him with all of the scruff is Rod. Rod is super-nice. That's obviously me in the center. The pair on the right side is Tom and Michael. When I met them in the fall, they were celebrating their silver anniversary. I thought that was pretty excellent."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "That is pretty great, David. Can I look through your pictures?"

"Sure," David said with a shrug. "Doubt there's much of anything interesting, though. I tried to catch a couple of pictures of the sunrise at the park, but never look anything like they... "

"Where's this from?" Kurt interjected, an expression betraying surprise.

David stretched his neck over toward the phone in Kurt's hands as Kurt moved the phone to share the image with David. "I totally forgot about that. That picture was taken by Sean the night we went to that karaoke thing. Brittany was dancing a little too wildly and knocked you right in my direction. I caught you before you fell into me or something else, like, the floor, maybe. I should have shown that photo to you weeks ago." David smiled, remembering the event.

"Send that picture to my phone," Kurt said, addressing David directly with a playful smile.

"You could just send it to yourself," David replied, "I mean, you're holding the phone."

"I don't know exactly how your phone works," Kurt answered, handing the phone back to David, "plus, I don't know how you have me listed in your contacts list."

"You're just 'Kurt'." David poked at his phone a few times causing Kurt's to alert the incoming image. "I don't bother using nicknames for people unless that's all they go by. Well, Strando is a _last_ name. That's how I have him listed. Same as some of the other team guys." David scrolled through his contacts, stopping suddenly. "How do you have me on _your_ contacts list?" he asked quietly.

Kurt had opened the message and was grinning at the image.

"Um," David repeated, "how do you have me listed in your contacts?"

"Oh, sorry," Kurt's attention broke away from the phone. "'David'."

"'David'? Not 'Dave' or 'Karofsky'?"

"No," Kurt answered, "'David'."

"The only people that call me by my full name consistently are my parents and you," David noted, "sometimes a teacher."

"That's the only name that seems to suit you from my perspective," Kurt said. "It's the only one that does justice to the person I see. It's like, I'd be selling you short to use another name."

David smirked. "Does that mean that my other friends are selling me short?"

"No," Kurt replied thoughtfully. "It's more like, most of your friends know certain sides of you. Chris knows you from that rowdy football-guy side. Gretchen and Sean know you're a smart, funny guy. Blaine knows that you're a person of integrity. We've all seen your unconventional methods at work. I get to know the whole package." Kurt raised his hand and pointed at David's forehead. "There's a lot going on in there. To reduce it to any single part of what you are would be disrespecting it."

David looked downward. "I dunno. Pretty scary place sometimes."

"No," Kurt replied quietly but firmly, "not for me, not anymore."

The doorbell rang loudly, shaking an otherwise quiet moment.

"That must be the food." David announced while standing from his seat. "Be back in a minute."

The food had indeed arrived, and David and Kurt sat, oddly, side-by-side, as opposed to across the table from each other, as they ate dinner. The seating arrangement actually proved beneficial as they were sharing two rather large items, and the seating eliminated the need for one or both to reach across the table risking a mess. The eating experience itself was fairly quiet but not without mirth: David took a particular joy in trying to amuse the ever-etiquette-minded Kurt, and it often worked. As they finished eating, David gathered the empty bags, containers, and foil wrappings.

"I am glad you that coaxed me into trying that sandwich all those months ago, David," Kurt remarked.

"Cool," David answered. "Glad I could turn you on to something new." David stuffed the trash into the wastebasket then turned and remained standing, addressing Kurt. "Do you feel stuffed? Like you ate too much?"

Kurt shook his head, a slightly confused expression shrugging. "No. I feel, well, very good."

David grinned a crooked smile. "Feel like dessert?"

Kurt grinned, "I _always_ feel like dessert."

David opened the refrigerator and removed a plastic clamshell container which he opened to reveal two generous slices of cheesecake. "This is from that deli that opened a few months ago," David spoke. "Have you ever had it?"

"No, but it looks _fantastic_ ," Kurt proclaimed, almost whispering.

"It's the kind I like: heavy, dense-as-a-brick New-York-style cheesecake." David reached into the cupboard for two small plates. "Do you want coffee with that?"

Kurt grinned, almost devilish. "It's early enough that the coffee won't disturb my sleep. Sure. Coffee."

David filled the coffee maker and began brewing a half-pot of coffee for the two of them.

After the dessert plates were cleared and removed from the table and the coffee was finished, the two boys retired to the gameroom. Kurt made himself comfortable a far corner of the large couch and David sat back comfortably in the chair closest to it. David brought his laptop into the gameroom and briefly checked his email, face illuminated by the screen, before placing the laptop aside on the coffee-table.

The room was peaceful with the golden light of the setting sun casting a glow through the darkening room. "The cheesecake was incredible, David," Kurt offered, sounding sated, a comfortable volume to the quiet of the room. "Thank you."

David smiled, slightly crooked, and only nodded a response at first, the light of the room rendering his expression inviting. "Your welcome. I kinda thought you'd enjoy that."

"So," Kurt began, "your parents are okay with leaving you alone here for the weekend?"

David laughed quietly. "Yeah. They trust that I'm not going to throw any crazy parties or anything. They also are confident that I'm not going to 'go bad' or anything. They know that, if I do have problems, there are people, several people, that I can turn to. They just want me to check in with them a few times a day, that's all."

"You're not having any problems, though, right?"

"No," David shook his head. "Even when I'm alone, like last night, I'm content. It's like I'm the same person that was a mess six months ago except everything has settled into perspective. I mean, there's still some chaos there, but even that has its place. If that makes sense."

"Your parents didn't want to take you with them?"

David laughed, a hint of a blush. "I think it's, like, a 'romantic getaway' for them after everything that's happened since January. They fell apart, but they're back together now. With everything where I'm concerned having been taken care of, they're enjoying some time with each other."

Kurt smiled, staring into the space of the quiet room. "You had a part in that, David."

"Hmm," David hummed quietly, an agreement.

Kurt's mind pondered. _Is this David being romantic? Intentionally? I've seen David being romantic before. Okay, take-out Italian subs and salads are not exactly textbook-romantic, but the cheesecake thing is. Almost. Or maybe it was the element of surprise that made it seem romantic. But maybe he meant for me to hear him singing earlier._ Whatever it was, the net effect was the same: Kurt felt like he was being romanced, and he _liked_ it.

"So, how are your plans for the fall coming along?" Kurt asked. "Any news after your final grades went out?"

David animated suddenly but calmly. "Well, I did get accepted to the college I wanted based on my year-end grades. The award didn't hurt, I'm sure."

"Where's that?"

"CLU in Pittsburgh. Tech-heavy/science-heavy school." David paused for a moment. "Rupert told me that I'd be getting offers from schools after getting that award, and he was right. I heard from several, and two schools were offering me full scholarships to be a journalism major."

"That's pretty impressive, David." Kurt piqued. "Not going to go for that?"

"Nah, I thought about it," David discounted.

"You could be a sport journalist."

David shook his head, beginning to speak. "I thought about _that_ for about thirty seconds. Sure, there are a number of high-profile athletes who promote themselves as 'gay friendly', but I'm not sure how receptive the general public is to the idea. Plus, my background is going to continue to be public knowledge, I'm sure. I'd never hide from the attention I've received, and, at this point, I wouldn't want to; but I think it would work against somebody in that field." David paused before continuing. "Being a journalist, I might need to go where the work is, and who knows where that might be? If I kick ass and graduate college with a math or physics major under my belt, I'll be able to get a solid job anywhere." His voice quieted. "I plan on having a partner, and his career might dictate where we need to live. I'm going to be ready to take that on when that time happens."

Kurt smiled. David's words warmed him in a way he found almost intoxicating. "That will be a very fortunate man."

"Huh?"

"Your eventual partner," Kurt expanded, "you will make him very happy."

The two sat in comfortable, easy silence: Kurt gazing thoughtfully into the empty space of the gameroom as David's eyes moved from floor upward to Kurt's face.

"Teach me to dance?"

"Huh?" Kurt's eyes shifted from the expanse of space to David's face to see his eyes softly upon him.

"Really. You and your friends always look like you're having a great time when you're all dancing. I'm not talking about the way you danced at Scandals: hell, I could probably do that, even though I might look kinda totally ill-at-ease doing it. I'm not talking about the way you dance with your friends from the glee club either: nothing so choreographed as that. I'm talking about the way people in formal attire traditionally dance on a dancefloor. I'd like you to teach me to dance like that." It was quiet for a moment. There was a hinted smile, slightly confident, on David's face; eyes addressing Kurt, hopeful, pleading: "Please?"

Kurt was taken aback by the request, but not uncomfortably so."Umm, I...I _guess_ I could do that."

David's smile bloomed as he stood; Kurt stood also, but more uncertain. The two moved to the larger space between the coffee table and the entertainment center.

"Is this enough space?" David asked.

"Yeah," Kurt quietly muttered, still feeling caught somewhat off-guard. "It wouldn't hurt to have a little _more_ space, like, could we push the coffee table more toward the couch?"

David nodded. "No problem." He turned and reached downward, moving the coffee table about a foot-and-a-half in the direction away from where they were standing.

"We'll need some music, but not at first," Kurt said, still sounding quiet. David stood as if waiting, hands folded in front of him while Kurt appeared slightly nervous, nodding at the floor and looking around.

Finally, Kurt looked upward, faced David and slowly stepped near him raising his left hand. "Okay, you're going to take my left hand with your right and put your left hand on my side."

"I kinda know this part at least," David spoke shyly, eyes going from their hands to Kurt's face to Kurt's waist and back again as he settled his hand gently, a bit nervously, on Kurt's side as Kurt rested his right hand on David's shoulder.

Kurt looked downward. "Your feet need to be at kind-of an angle to each other, it'll kinda fall into place." Kurt raised his head to David's face. David was nodding, a thoughtful expression, concentrating on Kurt's words. "Okay, now you're going to need to move forward toward me, and I'll need to react backward; or I'm going to need to move forward, and you move backward."

"Can't we just kinda stand in one place and move a little, and it'll _look_ like we're dancing?" David asked, serious expression but obviously making a subtle joke.

Kurt silenced a laugh, smiling. "No, that's not going to work, David."

David's expression broke into a smile. "Okay, I'm going to try this 'moving forward' thing."

"Let it pull us into a kind-of circular movement," Kurt said, reacting to David's slow, measured movements.

The two moved slowly and awkwardly, but the general movement was there. "Okay, that's the basic idea," Kurt spoke as they moved. Their movements smoothed, became less rigid. "Let's see if we can go a little faster," Kurt suggested.

David increased his speed, eyes going from Kurt's face to the floor, conscious of his movements. Once again, clumsy at first but becoming more comfortable. As it began to feel more natural, David looked up at Kurt and their eyes met causing David to smile. The smile was answered with a smile from Kurt, rather shy, but the visual contact helped dull the rough edges to their movements.

"I think it's time to add some music," Kurt spoke quietly, still moving.

"Can't we just do this?" David voice, just as quietly.

Kurt came close to a giggle. "You asked me to teach you to dance. It's not really dancing if we don't dance to some music."

The two slowed to a stop and disconnected. "What do you want to dance to, David?" Kurt asked softly.

David shook his head. "I know so few appropriate songs for that."

"Hmmm," Kurt thought, "And I know so many."

They were silent for a few moments until David said, "What about that song from _Casablanca_?"

Kurt looked back blank. "Never saw _Casablanca_?" David asked.

Kurt shook his head. "No."

"I never did either, but I saw part of it at Gretchen's house once. There was this song, 'You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss'," David recited the words, not attempting to sing them.

"Oh, I know that song," Kurt perked and spoke more loudly, "it's called 'As Time Goes By'."

"Will that one work?" David asked.

Kurt smiled and nodded. "That's actually a good choice."

David opened his laptop and searched for a version of the song online. "Okay, I think I found it."

Kurt stepped closer to David and laid his right hand on David's shoulder, raising his left hand in expectation of David's right after he began the audio. "Remember, David," Kurt spoke, "it's not a fast song, but it's going to seem like it's a lot faster than it is when we start moving."

David nodded, clicking to begin the audio, then taking Kurt's hand and addressing his face: David's brow creased in an expression of concentration, taking an audible breath: he was taking this seriously.

The song began, and immediately the clumsiness returned, David not anticipating the tempo of the song. "Whoa, a lot faster than I thought," he noted.

"It's not really fast, David," Kurt spoke, patience in his voice. "It is faster than we were going, but the hardest part is catching the steadiness of the beat."

The two were, in fact, moving together, but it was almost ignorant of the music. Kurt slowed and stopped occasionally, trying to get the two to regroup on the beat. David appeared to be getting flustered, unable to catch the tempo with his movements.

As the song ended and silenced, David shook his head and looked up, saying to Kurt, "I'm sorry, I'm not gettin' this."

Kurt didn't want to be discouraging. "We can try again. Maybe you want to sit down for a while; come back to it later. That helps sometimes."

David nodded, sweat beading slightly on his forehead. "Yeah, that's cool. I do really wanna learn to do this, though."

"You did okay," Kurt granted. "It is hard the first few times, making the movements go along with the music"

"It's not just me, then?" David asked, breathing audibly.

Kurt's face wrinkled. "No, you should have seen me trying to teach Finn for my dad's wedding. That was a disaster, but even _he_ did well eventually." Kurt turned around, looking down at the couch. "Let's just sit down for a while. You're breaking a sweat for no good reason."

Kurt sat on the couch, making as much space as he could for David to sit beside him given that the coffee table had been pushed close to the couch. David slowly sat next to Kurt, some hesitation in his movements. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded in front of him, appearing slightly frustrated with himself. He slowly turned to face Kurt and spoke.

"You're really patient with me." He hesitated then let out a small laugh. "You've always been patient with me, for, like, a year now."

Kurt smiled at David's unsure expression. "David, I don't think I was really all that patient with you back then. When I look back on it, I think sometimes I suggested things that were ahead of your curve."

David smiled genuinely this time. "You still helped me a lot," he nearly whispered in response.

The two sat silent for a time. The words followed by the silence had a calming effect on David.

"So, what made you want to learn how to dance like this, David?" Kurt asked with a slight, pleasant grin, genuinely curious.

"There are a few reasons," David answered. "The first and most obvious is that, someday, I plan to dance with you like that in public, or at least in front of a decent-sized group of people, and I want to make sure I know what I'm doing so I don't look bad doing it." David smiled, humbly and shrugged. "I missed that opportunity at the prom, and I've been kicking myself ever since for more than one reason. I owe you a dance, I owe it to the causes to which I am now committed; but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't simply want to have that experience with you." David delivered the last part in a soft, serious tone.

Kurt nodded, admiration in his eyes at the thought process, smiling as he was touched by the last part of the answer.

David continued. "See, I've been expanding my experiences and learning new things, and I really like it. I found that out by hanging with the people I made friends with at Thurston. They'd drop a word or phrase, and I'd learn about it on my own time. Mostly art-kinda things I picked up from Gretchen, but all of those people added something to the whole of my experience." David paused for a moment, inhaling audibly. "Of course, you were the first, giving me single words or short phrases which pointed me in a direction; and all those small hints led me to understand myself more completely and quickly than I could have without them."

"Finally, and this is sort-of an admission, I kinda made a conscious effort to learn about things which might mean something to you specifically, to show that I'm interested in learning about you. I think I've also turned you onto a few things as well. I wanted to get to know you beyond what I already did; and I wanted you to see me for what I really am, even though I'm still largely a work-in-progress. I've had amazing times just talking with you, Kurt, but we've also had some pretty incredible experiences which were new to both of us. Kurt, I hold your friendship close to me. I feel incredibly fortunate to be called your friend and to call you mine. It's a luxury. The thing is, I thought that, maybe if you learned enough about me, and I learned from you, and we shared all kinds of experiences, mine, yours, whatever, well, maybe we'd come to see each other as potentially something more than friends." David paused briefly. "If not, I'm more-than-okay with that."

Kurt spoke softly, but distinct. "It worked."

David started, looking at Kurt, eyes wide, eyebrows arched.

"For the last month, at least, David, I've felt like I've been falling in love with you," Kurt explained. "Like you said about me a few months ago, it began with admiring the person I saw and the things you were doing; but, the more I see, the more I just keep wanting to get closer to you. I know that I love you, David, as a friend, as a human being: you're beautiful. I want to find out if I can love you as _more_ than those things."

David faced downward, smiling, and addressing Kurt with his eyes shifted to one side, appearing slightly wary. "I don't know what it feels like to be in love with someone, Kurt. It might take me a while to understand what that means and identify the feeling. I might be closer than I think. This is all new to me." David shook his head slowly.

Kurt looked into David's eyes directly and said, "I want to be with you when you figure that out, David. I want to take that journey with you."

David faced downward again and grinned wide, exhaling audibly, nodding slightly, perhaps nervously.

Kurt spoke in a soft voice after a few seconds of perfect silence. "For a couple of weeks, maybe a month now, David, I've been wanting you to kiss me."

David's mouth opened, and he continued to cast his gaze downward, shaking his head. "Ah, I... no. I'd never take the initiative on that again unless I was completely sure, absolutely sure, that it was alright with you. I did that once before, and it messed both of us up."

Kurt backed away slightly, nodding, understanding, becoming clinical before speaking. "David, it was over a year ago, my first kiss was taken from me. It shocked me; it frightened me; at the time it kind-of scarred me. But I know now that the person who took it from me did it involuntarily and not out of malice; I know that person was being sincere in the only way they knew how to be. Right now, I have the rarest of opportunities. I have the opportunity to reclaim that first kiss for both me and the person who took it from me, to maybe correct it for both of us."

David kept his head down but grinned, somewhat dismayed, shaking his head.

"Do you want me to reclaim that kiss for us, David? If you won't take that initiative, I will."

David didn't raise his head or open his eyes, but he continued to smile while whispering in the quietest, shyest of breaths, "please, yes."

Kurt placed his hand softly under David's chin and raised his head up, coaxing David's face to face his. David's expression appeared stunned, but his eyes looked somewhat pained as if something in him was starving. Kurt lowered his gaze, nearly closing his eyes, parted his lips slightly, and moved in close to David's face. The two heads tilted slightly, gently in opposite directions, David closed his eyes and whispered, "wait."

The two hung there in the silence on the edge of a kiss. David whispered again, "wait." Poised, breath audible through parted lips, then David whispered again. "Okay." Their lips met gently in a soft, slow, but brief kiss.

When they parted, it felt complete. David cast his face downward again, eyes closed, smile on his mouth.

Kurt spoke softly, almost through a nervous laugh, "are you okay, David?"

David replied almost breathing out the words, "Ah, yeah... yeah. I'm... just... settling into how incredible that felt." David did indeed feel incredible. He was abuzz internally.

"Take as much time as you need." Kurt rubbed his hand on David's solid shoulder. "Why did you say 'wait' before we kissed?"

"It just felt right, that moment when you know it's about to happen. I wanted to remember that."

Kurt laid his hand more firmly on David's back. He thought that he felt goosebumps under David's T-shirt. As he pulled David closer, David instinctively lifted his head and turned it in the direction of Kurt's. Their eyes closed. Kurt waited this time, David's whispered pleas not needed. Their mouths met again, soft and intense. Electric. Once again, the kiss was brief but powerful for both of them. David didn't face downward this time. He opened his eyes and looked into Kurt's, at first appearing awed, then a smile widening on his face and a near-chuckle coming from his mouth.

Kurt smiled, a hint of confusion, and spoke. "Everything okay, David?"

David spoke through his huge smile. "Yeah, everything's really good. I just can't believe this is happening." After letting out some loud breaths, he took the initiative this time, gently pulling Kurt close, speaking just over a whisper, a pleased, subtle smile on his face: "I want more."

The third kiss was firmer, slightly more aggressive, more eager, but still very conscious. As they pulled apart, David looked down once again. After a few seconds, he looked up at Kurt, a slightly pleading look in his eyes. He moved to go in again, Kurt's face welcomed the action. David paused, "It feels wonderful to not get pushed away." Kurt blushed and chuckled a little himself, nervously, then David kissed him, more gently and longer this time, their mouths sliding together, warm. As they parted, Kurt turned and slid his body against David's. David wrapped his arm around Kurt's firm, smaller frame and gently pulled him close to himself.

The two sat there for some time, seated next to each other, bodies overlapping, Kurt's back leaning against David's chest. David's eyes were awed, his mouth slightly agape. He was nearly panting, but it was gentle, quiet. Kurt placed his arms over David's arm, holding it close to him.

"So, what does this make us?" David voiced, low, nearly a mumble, into the space before him.

"Hmm?" Kurt hummed a questioning sound while turning to the direction of David's face.

"I mean, are we, like, _together_ now?"

Kurt smiled and nodded, turning his head to face forward. "I... think we are."

"So, like, _boyfriends_?"

Kurt nodded more definitely. "Mm, yes," he spoke quietly.

"So, we bypassed the whole dating thing and went straight to being, like, boyfriends?"

Kurt spun his head quickly, an expression of affected displeasure, to see that David was wearing a mischievous grin and subtly laughing. Before Kurt could speak, David said. "I know, we have a lot of 'missed dating' to catch up on."

Kurt, surrendering to a smile, playfully smacked David's shoulder. "Right answer." Kurt faced forward again and noted, "You could say we've been _kinda_ dating."

"Covertly dating?" David questioned. "Is that even a thing? I mean, if, like, Strando asked me if you and I were dating, would the proper response have been, 'yeah, but we haven't realized that yet' or 'yeah, but you can't tell anyone and we don't touch or kiss'? I mean, how does that work?"

Kurt shrugged and shook his head subtly, trying to dismiss the question, finally saying, "David, I love how your mind works, but it's infuriating how you overthink things sometimes." Kurt exhaled loudly and said, "But it's somehow endearing, and I think I could get used to it."

"You gotta admit, Kurt, this _is_ kinda strange," David began. "I'll confess, and probably due to all my past fuckups where you're concerned, I've been almost afraid to do anything as simple as hold your hand or hug you, outside tackling you in a football game because that's what the game called for. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't think I was getting signals from you, but, then again, they were distanced."

"I'll take some of the blame for that," Kurt replied quietly, "but, then, you weren't the easiest person to read or get close to either."

David nodded. "Yeah, I know. Coming out of nowhere, coming on too strong, pushing you away sometimes. I was difficult to approach."

"The difficult part is over, David," Kurt said calmly before kicking his voice up a notch. "I've got to ask you, David, was this whole thing tonight a set-up?"

David's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Dinner; dessert, cheesecake, no less, wait, _excellent_ cheesecake at that; the perfect quiet night; the sunset; asking me to dance with you; even the way we shared dinner seemed romantic: did you _plan_ this?" Kurt asked with an accusing-though-playful expression.

David was relieved by the levity implied in Kurt's expression. "No, Kurt, honestly, when I asked you to dinner, I had no idea our meeting tonight was going to go this way. I thought we'd just eat, end up watching TV or talking a lot, and eventually going to sleep. As things started happening, it started to feel romantic to me also, and, admittedly, I just ran with it. I had been wanting you to teach me to dance, but asking that tonight was really not something I had planned. And then, when you asked me why I did that, I thought I'd just lay it all out. I was planning to do that sometime soon, but the opportunity presented itself, and I took it." David was quiet for a moment before continuing. "You want proof? Consider how clueless I was once you said you had feelings. Consider how poorly prepared I was to kiss you." David paused again. "You're not, like, offended or something?"

"No," Kurt answered. "You're unpredictable. And you keep me guessing. And there is nothing about this evening for me to be upset or offended over. Far from it."

David volunteered, carefully measured and slowly, "If you would have told me that you didn't want anything more than friendship from me, I would have honestly been okay with that; and it wouldn't have colored the evening badly for me."

They were silent for a moment until Kurt spoke. "This is an objective question, I'm not testing you or anything like that," Kurt began. "A few months ago, you told me that you weren't ready for a boyfriend. Do you think you're ready for one now?"

"I do," David spoke quietly. "Like I said earlier, I'm still a work-in-progress, but, at least now, I feel like I have something to offer someone else. I didn't feel like that a few months ago."

"You're not the only one who's a work-in-progress, David," Kurt replied as David's expression became slightly intense. "A year ago, I'd have thought that I was a complete person, like I didn't need to be tweaked or adjusted, or that I wouldn't get anything out of ideas that weren't already part of my comfort-zone. I was, to put it bluntly, stuck-up. You changed that for me, David."

"I did?"

"Yes, David," Kurt continued, sincerely. "I was as closed-up and mindlessly defensive of my opinions and positions as all of the people I'd have pegged as 'closed-minded'. You brought me out of that. You made me realize that there can be more ways of viewing something than just my own."

"Cubism."

"What?" Kurt shot David a curious expression.

David shook his head and laughed quietly. "One of the art terms I learned from Gretchen. It means representing several sides of something at the same time. Just the goofy way my mind works. Humor me."

Kurt laughed for a moment before speaking.

"You know, the other night at the PFLAG thing, someone asked if you were single and you said that you were and that you weren't planning to change that yet." Kurt recalled.

"Yeah?"

"Well you've changed it, David."

David was silent for a moment before responding. "I wanted to check with you first, to see if it was okay."

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "What does that mean?"

"It means that _I_ wasn't really looking to change my single status unless _you_ were looking to change my single status," David said directly.

Kurt smiled. "Good answer."

The room was darkening as the last traces of daylight were represented by purple streaks in the western sky. David's phone buzzed to life with an incoming call.

"It's my dad," David said quietly.

"Hey, Dad," he spoke more loudly into the phone, answering the call. "I'm just hanging here with Kurt. How're things in Bar Harbor? You and Mom having a good time?"

Kurt could hear the indecipherable noise of Paul's voice faintly between David's talking.

"Good. Glad you're having a nice time."

"Ah, we're mostly just sitting here talking like we always do. We were watching some videos and listening to music before. He came over for dinner too. His dad and stepmom are in DC this weekend."

"Yeah, everything's good here."

David stood and turned on a table lamp, softly illuminating the darkening room.

"Hi, Mr. Karofsky!" Kurt exclaimed brightly in David's direction causing David to smirk.

"Dad says 'hi'," David spoke at a conversational volume at Kurt.

"Okay, I guess I'll hear from you sometime tomorrow," David continued into the phone. "Bye, Dad. Love you. Tell Mom I love her. Bye."

David ended the call and turned to see Kurt looking up at him from the couch.

"Ready to try dancing again, David?" Kurt asked.

"Sure," David replied quickly, though his voice betrayed a lack of convincing confidence. He placed his phone on an end table and reached his hand over to Kurt who took it while standing to his feet.

David set the song again on his laptop and faced Kurt taking Kurt's left hand and reaching down for Kurt's hip, unintentionally placing his hand on Kurt's butt, then realizing this and pulling his hand quickly away, a startled expression on his face. Kurt laughed. David shook his head, mouth gaping.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I just reached, and, I didn't intentionally... "

"Oh, be _quiet_ ," Kurt said, nearly giggling. "Just start the music."

The song began, and the two began moving. The movements were jerky. The rest had helped as they were keeping time with the song, but the overall appearance and feeling was clumsy to both of them. David inhaled, giving Kurt a somewhat apologetic expression, but it wasn't informed by frustration like it was earlier in the evening. Kurt smiled, keeping up with the tempo and, thus, reducing David's rough edges until the song ended.

"Do you want to try that again?" Kurt asked, hopeful.

"Yeah, why not?" David shrugged, self-deprecating expression in place. "But if this isn't, like, a marked improvement, I say we scrap it for the night and come back to it another time."

This time was still rough, but David's movements were looser, more fluid. He was making more facial contact with Kurt, and though his expression was frequently indifferent, a hint of a smile from Kurt would cause David to smile and look away, bashful. As the song came to a close, Kurt's eyes addressed David, and David, taking the look as an invitation, closed the space between them and placed onto Kurt's mouth a slow, lingering kiss as they moved their arms into an embrace.

Kurt spoke quietly as he and David prolonged their hold on each other. "I'd call that a marked improvement."

David chuckled. "I'd call the _ending_ a marked improvement. I'm not sure about the rest of it."

"Are the dance lessons finished for the night?"

"Yeah, I guess," David spoke casually before suggesting, "Can we cuddle on the couch for a while?"

Kurt grinned, his turn to be bashful. "Sure."

David moved the coffee table back to its original position away from the couch. Kurt remained standing. David sat on the couch, presumably waiting for Kurt to sit beside him. Kurt shook his head. "No, David, lie down," Kurt said, not so bashful. "Make yourself comfortable."

David smiled, kicked off his shoes, and lay against the back of the couch as Kurt slid in next to him. David gently enfolded Kurt with his arm as Kurt settled into place.

"We have a lot of this kinda stuff to catch up on," David said quietly as he took Kurt's hands into his.

"Mmm," Kurt hummed, almost a sigh. "I agree," almost a whisper.

They lay silent, breathing, for a short time before David spoke quietly.

"Kurt, I'm a little scared."

Kurt spoke, quietly, a soothing, curious tone. "What are you afraid of, David?"

"Figuratively, we just went from zero to sixty in less than five seconds. Yes, I feel I'm ready for this, but at the same time, there's a lot to it."

"How do you mean?" Kurt asked, innocently.

"Kurt, a few months ago, and for a few months before that, I thought about you all the time. You weren't even regularly in my life, but, I mean, consider that I put together that elaborate Valentine's Day thing for you. And then, when I got out of the hospital, I realized how kinda crazy the whole thing was. Furthermore, how could I possibly have been ready to take on any kind of real relationship? Well, now I think I'm ready for that. And then I blinked and I have a boyfriend suddenly. But I don't just have a boyfriend. I have _the_ boyfriend, the guy that I obsessed over, probably to an unhealthy degree. This is kinda big."

"David, if this is something you need to get comfortable with, I'll be patient. I see so much in you that I want to be close to. This is something that I want, not something that I feel I need to do. You know you can trust me, right?"

"Kurt, I trust you with anything." David's quick response wasn't an exaggeration.

"I know I can trust you, David. I see the way you are with your friends. You'd protect them with everything you've got. And I'd protect you the same way, for what that's worth."

"You're so strong on the inside, though, Kurt."

"You're stronger than you think you are, David. Think about how much you've accomplished, almost by yourself, in the past few months."

Both were silent for a while until David spoke. "You're right, yeah. But that doesn't stop me from feeling kinda overwhelmed."

"I think you just need some time, David."

"You know," David paused, sounding uncomfortable with what he wanted to say. "I've never been with anyone like... _that_ before. I'm totally inexperienced. You probably knew that, right?"

"No," Kurt answered, sounding somewhat indifferent. "It's something I would have assumed, but it's not something that I could have known one way or the other."

David laughed quietly, sounding defeated. "You mean I don't project like I have a giant neon sign over me that reads 'virgin'?"

"David, given as much as I know you, which I think is probably more than anyone else, I'm not surprised, but I don't see how that's important."

"Why aren't you surprised?" David asked. "Not that I'm bothered by it or anything. I'm just curious."

Kurt exhaled before answering. "Because you've mentioned it before. Not in specific terms, but you had said that you wanted someone to get close to you as a person first. It just seems like something you value too much to waste with someone you don't feel close to."

"Damn."

"What, David?"

"You don't just get me. You _nail_ me."

"David, as far as, like, intimacy is concerned, it's not like I'm exactly experienced in that department either."

"C'mon, Kurt, you and Blaine were together for over a year."

Kurt huffed quietly. "Blaine and I never did anything together that I couldn't have done by myself."

_"Really?"_ David spoke the first word above a whisper since they took to the couch, his face twisted in a puzzled expression.

"It's true, David."

" _Wow_. A _year_?" David sounded completely baffled. "I'm asking you to be patient with me, and I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be moving a _lot_ faster than _that_."

Kurt snickered. "I never did understand that aspect of Blaine. He'd have people believe that he was some kind of stud, but his definition of what that exactly entailed was very vague."

"I'm not even going to begin to try to understand that, Kurt," David puzzled.

"I think it had something to do with the fear of his hair getting messed-up," Kurt nearly spat.

David couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Kurt, you can stop right there. This is dangerously close to TMI."

The two lay silent on the couch for some minutes. David felt more comfortable after laughing briefly with Kurt.

"Kurt, I have something to ask you," David broke the silence. He was nervous in what he was about to ask, but, like earlier in the evening, he found the strength to risk whatever outcome might occur. "Um, you can decline if you like, and I would completely understand, but, uh, I would really... love for you to sleep next to me tonight, Kurt; and... by that I mean just that. I'm not ready for anything more, and I know it. I just want to sleep next to you and wake up next to you tomorrow. Like I said, if that's too much, and you don't want to, that's totally fi... "

"You can stop, David," Kurt interrupted, "yes, I'll do that."

"You sure?" David's response was high-pitched, a near-murmur.

"David, if we stay here long enough on this couch, we're going to fall asleep, and the net result will have been the same. Your bed's bigger and, I'm sure, more comfortable, especially for two people, than this couch is." Kurt paused for a moment. "Besides, I like your bedroom."

"You like my bedroom?"

"Yeah," Kurt volunteered cheerfully. "The plaid wallpaper, the dark blue walls, the dark wood: it's you, David." Kurt sat up and David followed, sitting beside him as Kurt continued. "I admit, when I first saw your bedroom, it looked a little more mature and formal than I'd imagined it would. I guess I was expecting posters of sports heroes or racecars or something; but when I got to know you, it made sense."

"Thanks," David muttered, shyly, a pensive expression on his face.

"David, you look so serious."

"I'm nervous," David answered. "I'm happy, but I'm still kinda blown away by this."

"If you're happy, can you at least smile for me?" Kurt beckoned. "You know I love your smile, David."

David nodded, but still didn't manage a smile. Kurt raised his hand and gently brushed his index finger on David's lips.

"C'mon. Smile for me, David." Kurt's words were quiet and high-pitched, playful. David's lips tightened, coaxed by Kurt's actions. "C'mon, there it is." David's face, succumbed, broke into a huge smile as David turned downward as if embarrassed that Kurt was able to draw it out of him. Kurt pulled David to him, kissing his cheek, the smile refusing to relinquish its hold from David's face.

"So what's the plan?" Kurt asked. "I go over to the guest bedroom, change into my sleepies, and meet you upstairs in your bedroom?"

"Oh, there is no plan," David looked upward, the remnants of that huge smile on his face but appearing somewhat exhausted from fighting it. "Tonight was totally unscripted, way more than usual, and I'm almost _never_ scripted. But, yeah, what you just said." David's expression became slightly quizzical. " _Sleepies?_ "

Kurt stood from the couch and David followed. "I'll just be upstairs," David said, "Don't take too long, or I'll come down looking for you."

Kurt turned and grinned. "I won't be long at all."

David was in his bedroom waiting for Kurt. He'd changed out of his jeans and pocket-T and into loose-fitting gray running shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He'd pulled down the covers on his bed, and he was waiting for Kurt. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, nervous, although he was trying to calm himself.

Kurt entered David's bedroom carrying his bags. "No point in leaving them in the spare bedroom, right?" Kurt remarked as he placed them on the floor near the doorway. David shrugged and shook his head, silently taking in Kurt.

Kurt was wearing a loose-fitting black pajama top with red plaid flannel lounge pants and black leather slippers. "You're mismatched," David said, quietly.

Kurt shrugged. "I honestly didn't think anyone was going to be seeing what I was wearing to sleep when I gathered up my clothes this afternoon." Kurt paused for a moment before saying, "but I don't think you really mind."

David thought he might pat the space beside him on the bed as a signal for Kurt to sit next to him, but it wasn't happening. David wasn't paralyzed by the situation as much as he was awed.

Kurt looked up from his bags in the direction of David's face, smiling; David returned the smile, but it was a fraction the size of Kurt's. Kurt stepped over to the bedside table, slipped the glass ring from his hand, and placed it on the table before sitting beside David and kicking his slippers from his feet in the process.

"You're still nervous, David," Kurt spoke, quietly.

"Yeah," David nodded, shifting his eyes and summoning a small smile.

"Downstairs you weren't so nervous when we finished dancing. You leaned in and kissed me. It was spontaneous. And it was lovely, David."

"Yeah, well," David responded, "it was kinda in-the-moment, and it was before you kinda dissected me."

"David, I know you that well. Don't you think it's comforting for someone to know you that well? Someone you said you'd trust with anything?"

David nodded, and Kurt continued. "And, right now, wouldn't you have that person be me more than anyone else?"

"Yeah," David responded, nodding, disarmed somewhat.

"And, David, you probably know me just as well as I know you," Kurt said.

"If I _do_ know you that well," David began, "it's on a totally different level than you know me." David inhaled and nearly whispered, "The place that you get to in me is so fucking deep, Kurt."

"How about this, then?" Kurt began. "You lie down the way you're comfortable, and I'll just get in beside you and we'll figure it out from there."

"Okay, that'll work," David said before turning himself to pull his body up onto the bed.

"Hey, before you do," Kurt stopped him, "Give me a kiss goodnight?"

This brought a smile from David as he stretched his neck slightly from his half-reclining position to meet Kurt's lips with his. He then pulled himself further onto the bed, closer to the far side, conscious of leaving Kurt a generous space in which to make himself comfortable. Though not mentioned, David's generosity was mentally-noted by Kurt. Reaching over to turn off the light on the end table, David finally came to rest on his back and stared at the ceiling, expectant.

The room remained illuminated partially by the bright moonlight and a cool glow radiating from David's digital alarm clock. Kurt swung himself up onto the bed and moved close to David settling himself on his side, his head resting on David's shoulder, his chest pressed snugly against David's side, his left hand on David's chest, just over his heart. David reached his left arm around Kurt's back, pulling him in lightly.

"You can hold me tighter if you'd like to, David, but this is fine if that's how you're comfortable."

David's eyes were closed, face pointed forward toward the ceiling. As Kurt's and David's forms conformed to each other, David pulled his arm slightly snugger. Kurt shifted against David, and the resulting sensation caused David to chuckle and shudder slighlty.

"Hmm, what?" Kurt quietly questioned David's reaction.

David made a noise and shook his head, dismissing his reaction.

"C'mon, David," Kurt pressed, "What was that all about?"

"You're gonna to think it's stupid, but obviously, I've never been in bed with someone before, and the way it felt when you moved against me was just kinda incredible. Just such a simple thing like that was amazing."

Kurt smiled. "Mm-hm."

David exhaled and began, "I guess I'm going to be experiencing all kinds of new things for a while."

"David, I'm looking forward to being with you when you experience all of these things. I want to watch that process. And I'm going to love experiencing these new things with you."

David's smile widened though his eyes remained closed. He lifted his right arm and placed his hand on his chest, holding Kurt's hand, but otherwise remained largely still.

"David, you look like you're dreaming or something," Kurt offered.

"Maybe I think I am," David replied, half-laughing.

Kurt reached his left hand upward to David's chin and stroked it lightly. "What are you doing, Kurt?" David responded quietly through a snicker.

"I'm touching your chin."

"Okay, why?" David continued to be amused by the action.

"Because I like your chin. It's really strong-looking in profile, and it has this really cute hint of a cleft." Kurt noted David's smile.

"Excuse me if I'm not as animated as you are, Kurt," David spoke, softly.

"David, I can tell you're happy," Kurt responded, "that's what matters right now."

David shook his head, a quiet, pleased laugh. "It's still going to take a while for this to sink in."

"It's okay," Kurt lowered his hand from David's face, replacing it to his chest, "I'll be as patient as you need me to be with you."

"You could nudge me along a little or give me a well-meaning shove."

Kurt laughed followed by David. As the laughter quieted, they could hear sounds in the distance of an approaching thunderstorm.

"This feels really good, David," Kurt spoke quietly having become less tactilely active. "The thunder sounds romantic also."

"Are you going to suggest that I planned that too?" David joked.

Kurt squirmed slight-but-good-humored disapproval at the comment.

"So," Kurt began, "you're going away to Pittsburgh in the fall. I'll be going to New York."

"Yeah?" David answered.

"Well, say we have this terrific summer together, which I think we will," Kurt asked, "what then?"

"What do you mean, Kurt?"

"You in Pittsburgh and me in New York?"

"Kurt, if we have an excellent summer together, I don't see why we wouldn't be able to work through going to college in separate cities. I mean, Pittsburgh and New York aren't twenty minutes away from each other, but they're a lot closer than Lima and New York."

David paused for a moment, realizing what Kurt was suggesting. "Kurt, um, y'know, to ask a question like that, I mean, we're, like, three hours into being boyfriends. Why would you ask such, like, a big question?"

"Um," Kurt mumbled, "just thinking, I guess."

"Kurt, if it comes to that, the end of the summer, and we're solid, I'm going to want to stick it out. okay?"

Kurt smiled to himself, face nearly buried in David's T-shirt. "See, when it comes to practical things, _you're_ the strong one, David."

The sound of softly-falling rain became apparent as the thunder grew louder but not alarming.

"Do you have any fantasies you can tell me?" Kurt asked. "Like you did that one other time?"

"Ones that are clean enough that I'd tell you _now_?" David let out a breath with a smile. "Just this one."

After several moments of silence passed and Kurt expecting more words which never came, Kurt asked, "Which one?"

"The one that's coming true for me right now," his words were quiet but distinct.

"Oh, please, David, _this_?"

"Don't discount what I'm saying, Kurt," David spoke, almost defensive. "This was a big fantasy of mine for months: being able to sleep next to you and wake up next to you and see you first thing in the morning. And then, I knew it couldn't happen, so I put it out of my mind. Until tonight."

"Damn," Kurt muttered. "You've been carrying this around all this time?"

"Yeah, but it's okay, Kurt. I wouldn't have even thought about it had the evening gone a different way."

"You know, David, you have this knack for saying things that just level me sometimes."

"I guess we're kinda evenly-matched, then." David squeezed his hand slightly tighter on Kurt's. "Do _you_ have any fantasies?" David asked after a few minutes of silence passed.

Kurt smiled as he began to speak. "Well, there's this one I have, but it's not entirely original. It was kind-of inspired by someone else's fantasy."

David smiled. "Do tell."

"Well, it's like, I have this amazing partner," Kurt began. "We'd been together for years, and we'd weathered going to schools in different cities, but we finally have our college careers under our belts, and we're finally going to get a place together. We figure out which city we want to live in, _New York_..."

David laughed as Kurt continued.

"... and we find an awesome older house in one of the more artsy districts. We spend weekends doing renovations and making it our own. My partner thinks I'm really skilled at decorating, but I know he has a really creative side of his own, so, even though I come up with decorating ideas, I always make sure that I get his input and approval on what I'm doing."

David laughed again; Kurt spoke longer.

"See, my partner doesn't know it, but he's got a really great eye for certain things. Anyway, we have this fantastic house that we're both proud of; and we have fantastic dinners with our friends, and we have one room that's kinda my partner's room. It's got a big TV, and it's decorated with, like, sports trophies and sports memorabilia,..."

David snickered more loudly.

"...because, see, my partner is really into sports, and every year he throws a big Super Bowl party and both of our dads make the trip to our place for it."

"That's a pretty specific fantasy, Kurt," David said, shaking his head, "and, yeah, I think I've heard one something like that before." David pulled Kurt a little tighter to himself and lifted his head to kiss Kurt, almost timidly, on his forehead.

"Are you getting more comfortable, David?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly, "Still have a way to go, though."

"I think the sound of the rain is making me a little drowsy," Kurt offered.

"It'll do that." David lifted his head forward and looked at Kurt, rubbing his back briefly with his left hand. "I should say now before you fall asleep, good night, Kurt."

"Goodnight, David," Kurt replied quietly.

Kurt was asleep within minutes. David held him; he couldn't put words to what he felt to have this object of his deep affection sleep in his arms. It felt like it somehow transcended everything he knew as existence up to this point. David felt himself slipping into sleep, and it felt perfect.

In the early morning hours, in the darkness, Kurt found himself awake but unalarmed, secure. David was asleep and had shifted onto his side while Kurt's shoulder rested against David's upper-arm. Aware of where he was, Kurt felt warm and protected. As he changed the angle of his neck, he could see David's face, peacefully-asleep next to him, illuminated by the blue light from the digital clock on the nightstand. Unlike times when David was awake, whether he was smiling or laughing or throwing one of his attitudinal smirks or even portraying sadness, this face was different. In this face, Kurt could see that hidden, incredibly sensitive part of David: the part that was fragile and easily hurt, the part to which Kurt was so protective. Kurt wanted to reach up and touch David's face, but he wouldn't risk disturbing this peaceful countenance; he, instead, slowly closed his eyes and lingered on David's face as he slid back into sleep.

David awoke to light streaming into his bedroom windows, a pure, clear light. He was lying on his side and felt Kurt's presence before he saw him lying beside him on his back. Kurt appeared luminous in the morning light. David stared down, admiring Kurt's face: the contours, the delicate features, the flawless surface. He wanted to kiss Kurt as soon as he could, but he didn't want to wake him. Still, David was sublimely happy to see him sleeping next to him; and David was patient, content to let Kurt sleep until he woke on his own. David didn't know how long he'd been studying the topography of Kurt's face when Kurt's body began to stir.

"Hey, you."

Kurt opened his eyes to see David's face above his, inches away, clear, intense eyes, subtle smile, profoundly happy. Kurt's first reaction was to smile in return, but, before he could, David closed the distance between them, his lips against Kurt's, coaxing them gently apart, inviting Kurt's tongue and taking Kurt's parted lips as an invitation for his. When they parted, David's face showed a hint of exhaustion but a wealth of fascination; Kurt's seemed merely awed.

"Whoa," Kurt muttered.

"Good morning," David voiced, eyes unbreaking from Kurt's.

"Not so timid this morning, David?"

"I think something sunk in overnight, in my sleep."

David lay back down on his side, pulling Kurt close to him, taking Kurt's hands into his. Kurt considered David's hands as he watched them enfold his own.

"You have really nice hands, David," Kurt spoke softly, early morning decorum.

"You think so?" David asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Kurt said. "They're big, but they're not, like, tough-looking. They don't look like they've been abused, and they're remarkably soft. Not as soft as mine are, maybe, but surprising. I mean, you lift weights, David, why aren't they rough and calloused?"

"I wear weightlifting gloves when I work out," David replied quielty.

"What purpose do they serve?"

"Mmm. Better grip on the bar, stuff like that," David answered. "And they keep my hands from getting unnecessarily abused."

"Is that important to you, David?"

"Sit up, Kurt," David said as he himself sat up on the surface of the bed.

Kurt sat also, and David positioned himself behind Kurt, placing the palm of his right hand on the back of Kurt's slender-but-sinewy neck and proceeded to knead it gently.

"Oh, geeze," Kurt began, closing his eyes, "Oooh."

David smiled, a slight wicked edge. "That's maybe a good reason to keep my hands from getting too rough."

David reached around in front of Kurt, to the buttons at the front of Kurt's top. "Don't be alarmed, Kurt. I just want to undo these top couple of buttons so I can access your shoulders."

"We're not going to get naked today?" Kurt asked, mischief in his voice.

"No, no," David replied, "Not yet; still not ready for that yet, but I'm a lot closer than I thought I was last night."

David loosened the garment around Kurt's shoulders and sunk his hands in, rubbing Kurt's shoulder muscles, extending his thumbs downward to rub the center of Kurt's back and back up again to Kurt's neck.

"Oh, my, David, that is amazing," Kurt nearly whispered.

"Yeah? You like that?" David asked as he raised his hand upward and rubbed the muscles at the base of Kurt's skull.

"Ah," Kurt gasped as his milky white skin flushed red and goosebumps raised on his arms. "This is... ," Kurt breathed out, "this is... _so_... unfair."

David cocked his head in surprise, slowing the motion of his hands. " _Unfair?_ Why?"

Kurt shook his head, becoming more controlled, smiling. "David, for the last several weeks, I've been wanting to get my hands all over _your_ shoulders. It's not fair that you get to do that to me first."

At this, David laughed and wrapped Kurt into his arms, bringing them both down to the bed. David kissed the back of Kurt's neck and shoulders. Not to be outdone, Kurt swivelled himself in David's arms and met David's lips with his own several times. After a while, they just lay quietly, enjoying the contact of each other.

"What time is it? Are we going running today?" Kurt asked.

David responded quietly, maybe somewhat negative-sounding. "It's not quite seven o'clock. If you really want to go running, we _can_." David paused, rolling Kurt slightly in his arms. "If it makes no difference to you, though, I'd almost rather just stay here, enjoy each other's company, make some coffee, cook up some breakfast disaster in the kitchen, smile at you, stuff like that."

"Okay, David, put it that way, how can I refuse? Only thing, though, I'll try to prevent a breakfast disaster."

"Mmmmm," David pulled Kurt close. He could hear Kurt humming, almost purring as he held his head against Kurt's over Kurt's shoulder. "I think I'm getting up from this bed. I don't wanna let you go, though."

Kurt turned to David's face for a quick kiss before David unwrapped his arms from around Kurt and both boys stood.

David inched his way toward the door. "Did you need to use the bathroom right now, Kurt?"

Kurt shook his head, reaching for the glass ring he left on the nightstand. "No, I was just going to get dressed. I can use the bathroom after you."

"Don't get dressed yet," David pleaded, sounding playful, "Let's eat breakfast in our sleep clothes, please?"

"Okay, breakfast in our sleep clothes," Kurt laughed, sliding into his slippers as he reached for the ring, sliding it from the nightstand but failing to grasp it as it fell to the hardwood floor making a loud knocking sound upon impact.

David looked over quickly at the sound. "What was that?"

Kurt crouched and picked up the ring which had broken into two pieces as it struck the floor. "I dropped my ring. It broke."

"Oh, man," David said, sounding disappointed, "I'm sorry."

Kurt shrugged. "It's not your fault. I just thought I was holding it, and I wasn't."

"Bummer, though," David continued, approaching Kurt.

"It's really no big deal, David. It was a cool ring, yeah, but it wasn't expensive, and I'm sure I can probably find another one something like it somewhere."

"Well," David backed toward the doorway, smile returning slightly to his face, "I'm going to use the bathroom real quick. You can wait until I'm done or use the one downstairs."

"Mmm," Kurt gave a quick, affected expression of thought. "I guess I'll just use the one downstairs. Meet you in the kitchen."

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 10,000

**Chapter 35**

 

**Saturday, May 19**

Kurt was waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, when David arrived from the upstairs, having added a pair of white socks and canvas slip-on shoes to his running-shorts and T-shirt ensemble, hair in a state of post-slumber disarray. Kurt's face drew into a smile upon sighting David; David's smile was more immediate and less controlled.

"I'm hungry," Kurt said quietly as David approached him closely while wrapping his hands gently at Kurt's sides, not quite a hug. "What are the breakfast options?"

"We have fresh fruit, oranges, grapefruits, peaches maybe; we have some bagels. PBJ. I can operate the toaster oven without burning down the house."

Kurt laughed and lowered his head, gently butting the top of his head into David's chest. "We could go out on a limb and try to make something, David," Kurt spoke, raising his head and facing David again. "I think that would be befitting of the morning following our first night together."

"Here's my suggestion," David began, moving his hands upward loosely onto Kurt's upper-arms, "fruit, juice, cinnamon-raisin bagels with cream cheese, and coffee."

Kurt rolled his eyes, feigning defeat. "That's perfect. Just enough effort to be memorable, and just logical enough to avoid making a mess in the kitchen."

David smiled at Kurt for a brief moment before moving close to him for a brief kiss. Pulling away, he spoke quietly. "I'll get the coffee going. Fruit and juice and stuff is in the refrigerator. Be my guest and pick out what you want. I'm pretty-much fine with anything. Bagels are in the bag on the counter. There are several different kinds in there."

Kurt opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cranberry juice as well as an orange, and apple, and a peach. "Why don't you select the bagels, then, and surprise me?" Kurt suggested.

After dispensing juice glasses and returning the bottle to the refrigerator, Kurt busied himself with rinsing the fruit in the sink; asking David where the cutlery might be located, and, after receiving a mumbled verbal response and hand signal in the direction of one of the drawers, Kurt located a paring knife.

After a few minutes, the coffee was brewed and poured, David brought a plate of two successfully toasted and cream-cheesed bagels to the table, and Kurt presented a plate which could only be described as an artful and impressive arrangement of wedges of fruit: peach, apple, and orange sections all aesthetically placed and overlapping. Upon viewing the plate, David snorted out a laugh.

"That is so pretty, I'm not sure I want to eat any of it," he said to Kurt.

Kurt smirked, dismissing his compliment, asking instead, "What kinds of bagels am I looking at?"

"Cinnamon-raisin and chocolate-chip," David answered. "I thought a half of each for each of us, unless you're partial to one over the other."

Kurt shook his head, approvingly. "No, you got it right. I'd want some of each."

"Hey, I'm gonna run downstairs and grab my laptop," David spoke as Kurt sat at the table. "I want to check my email this morning before I forget."

"No problem," Kurt answered cheerfully, "I'll be here."

David returned in less than a minute, booted his laptop, and immediately turned his attention to breakfast and Kurt, seating himself beside him. "I'm glad you dove into that fruit arrangement," David spoke rather loudly, "Now I won't feel so bad messing up how nice it looked."

As David reached forward for his coffee mug, Kurt leaned in, kissing David's cheek causing him to close his eyes and face downward, grinning.

"Aww," Kurt purred, "You were so frisky upstairs, and now you're all demure again."

David shook his head. "Kurt, sometimes I'm still in disbelief. It will probably be that way for a while, but, make no mistake, I'm crazy-happy."

The two ate in relative silence, exchanging more glances than words. As they were finishing breakfast, David's phone buzzed with an incoming message.

"Uh," David looked at the screen, "it's from Dad." He opened and retrieved the message, realizing that it was an image of both of his parents smiling and eating breakfast in what he could only assume was their hotel's restaurant. "I'm impressed. I didn't know Dad knew how to send pictures."

Both David and Kurt snickered at David's observation. "Let's send 'em one back," David suggested, accessing his camera function, and stretching his arm out to capture the two of them in an image.

"Um," Kurt dissented slightly, "Don't you think it might be better if your parents were aware that we're, um, _together_ before you possibly shock them with a picture of us eating breakfast together?"

"Mmmm," David dismissed, "nothing strange about us eating breakfast together on a Saturday morning, especially considering that we run together most Saturday mornings." David snapped the image, then withdrew the phone to inspect the results. "I will tell them about us first-thing when they get back, though," David said as he angled the camera to share the image with Kurt.

"Pretty good picture," David said as he prepared to send it to his father.

"Hey, send that to my phone also," Kurt spoke, agreeing with David's critique. "It's the first picture of us as boyfriends."

This statement retrieved a smile and a quick kiss from David before Kurt stood, collecting some of the empty plates from the table. After forwarding the image to Kurt's phone, David turned his attention to his laptop, logging onto his email account. "Um," David spoke when he realized Kurt was cleaning up the table, "hey, you don't need to do that, you know, you're my guest here."

"I'm fine," Kurt responded. "Besides, I wanted a refill on my coffee. Do you want more?"

"Yeah, sure," David replied.

David's phone buzzed with a text message, again from his father. "Dad says that him and mom say, 'Good morning' to both of us," David relayed.

Kurt returned to the table with two refilled mugs, resting them on the surface before leaning in behind the seated David and gently laying his arms around him, resting his chin on David's shoulder, looking over indifferently at the laptop screen. Their cheeks brushed causing David to grin. "Anything interesting?" Kurt asked.

"Yes, I got a message from Rupert with information about people who may be able to give me some tutoring work over the summer."

"That's great, David," Kurt replied, sounding only slightly interested, as he turned his head and kissed David's cheek before unwrapping his arms and backing away to land his hands softly on David's shoulders a few seconds later, slowly rubbing and rolling them in his fingers and palms.

"Mmmm," David made a deep, hoarse noise in reaction.

"I've been wanting to get my hands on these shoulders for...days, if not weeks," Kurt spoke, a devious tone to his voice. David closed his eyes and lowered his head, continuing to make wordless sounds approving of Kurt's actions as Kurt moved his hands up to the muscles on the back of David's neck as David's action invited. "I have to say, David, that this feels every bit as good as I thought it would, maybe better; and, um, your shoulders are _quite_ a handful."

David continued to hum approval of the attention Kurt was lavishing to his shoulders for a few minutes until, raising his head with an exhausted smile, he reached back and pulled Kurt toward him for a kiss over his shoulder. "Can we grab our coffees, go into the other room, and sit on the couch for a while?" David suggested.

"Sure, David," Kurt replied.

The two settled themselves on the living room couch: Kurt sitting upright on a far side, and David reclining himself into Kurt, head and shoulders resting on Kurt's lap. "This still hasn't completely sunk in, but I'm so happy, Kurt," David said, eyes closed, absorbing the moment.

Kurt observed, "You don't really seem nervous like you did last night."

David smiled, slightly more pronounced as he answered. "I'm not. That seems gone. The thing is, Kurt, when I think about it, I'm just amazed. I went from being in the saddest, darkest part of my life, sadder than anything I could have ever imagined I could feel, through a string of amazing experiences and events to _this_. Being able to feel this close to anybody might have been amazing enough, but, Kurt, being that it's _you_ ,... I'm going to need to get used to being really happy."

Kurt smiled, looking down at David. "I hope that's not going to present a problem."

David merely chuckled happily in response.

"Are you having Chris and some other guys over tonight?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, well, um, that's the plan," David replied. "You are more-than-welcome to join us, Kurt."

"Uh, I don't think so."

"Aw, why not?" David asked, softly, disappointment in his voice.

"Well, first, Rachel and Mercedes have been bothering to do something with them for over a month now, and I keep making excuses as to why I haven't . They want to do something tonight, and I feel like I should do something with them because I've cancelled on them so often." Kurt paused for a moment before he added, "Also, I'm not sure Chris and his friends would actually be a comfortable bunch of people for me to pal around with."

David opened his eyes, a serious expression on his face. "Kurt, Strando and the guys _like_ you. Plus, you're my boyfriend, in case you think any of them might object to you being there, they'd need to take that up with me."

"Well," Kurt asked, "what would you and your friends be doing?"

"Probably getting a couple of pizzas, playing some video games, and watching some dumb movie on that network that shows those really bad CGI movies, stuff with titles like _Megagator versus Dragonoid_ ," David explained. "Strando, I'm sure, will have a case of beer he wants to kill."

"A month ago, I wouldn't have been interested in doing anything like that, but it actually does sound like it could be fun," Kurt mused. "I still think I feel like I should spend some time with Rachel and Mercedes. They really _are_ two of my best friends, and I won't be seeing much of Mercedes after the end of the week."

"I'm sure there will be at least a few opportunities to hang out with Strando and the other guys this summer," David countered, "and I totally understand you wanting to hang with Mercedes and Rachel." David was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Why aren't Finn and Rachel doing something tonight? It's a Saturday night."

"Oh, that reminds me," Kurt started, abrupt. "Finn's pulling ten hours at the garage today because Dad's in DC for the weekend. That's why he and Rachel aren't doing anything tonight. I told him I'd be around most of the day in case he needed a hand. What time is it?"

"Um," David said, reaching to the coffee-table for his phone and fumbling with it to see the time, "it's eight-twenty-six."

"He's probably okay until around nine-thirty or ten, but I really should get changed and back home," Kurt said with mild urgency in his voice.

"I didn't keep you too long, did I?" David asked, very concerned as he rose from the couch and offered his hand to Kurt, helping him to his feet.

"No, Finn should be just fine," Kurt replied. "Let me go change out of my sleepwear into regular clothing. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Kurt departed up the stairs for David's bedroom as David collected the empty coffee mugs form the living room and took them to the kitchen. He had just finished placing the few dishes and utensils they'd used into the dishwasher when Kurt emerged from the upstairs with his bags, dressed and ready to leave. He had his cell phone in his hand, placing a call to Finn, when David left the kitchen and met him at the entryway.

"Hello, Finn," Kurt spoke into his phone, "Is everything okay there?"

David could hear the noise of Finn's voice through the phone at a distance but could not distinguish any of the actual speech as Kurt continued to speak.

"I'll be there soon. I can probably be there by nine-thirty."

"I left you the message telling you where I'd be."

"Yes, I just stayed at David's last night."

"Okay, I'll see you soon, Finn. Goodbye." Kurt ended the call, slid his phone into his pocket, and turned to face David.

"David," Kurt began, "thank you for a wonderful dinner last night, breakfast this morning, and a fantastic evening in between."

David smiled humbly, nearly bowing his head but pointing his eyes upward, level with Kurt's. "Kurt, you have no idea how incredible the last twelve hours have been for me." David gently wrapped his arms around Kurt, resting his forehead on Kurt's shoulder. As Kurt dropped his bags to the floor to return the embrace, David said, quietly but clearly, "And that's really all I can say on the subject."

After a moment, David lifted his head. He and Kurt addressed each other's eyes: Kurt's were inviting, playful; David's bore a trace of uncertainty but with the mark of courage to overcome. It was David who leaned forward, initiating a kiss as Kurt reached his hands up into David's already mussed hair. As David pulled away from Kurt's lips, Kurt's fingers continued to comb their way through David's hair, much to David's curious amusement.

"Kurt, what are you doing?" David asked through a snicker, holding his head low into Kurt's roaming hands as he held his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt laughed, "I've been wanting to do this for a while too, and, since your hair was already a mess, no harm done."

David shook his head, laughing louder and saying, "Ten minutes ago, my head was just-about in your lap and you could have done this to your heart's content."

Kurt shook his head. "Yes, and now, unfortunately, I need to leave."

Kurt dropped his hands from David's hair, and David gently drew him in for another quick kiss.

"I'll give a call when I get home and find out how much I'll need to help Finn," Kurt said. "I'm sure we'll be talking later also."

David nodded, "Goodbye , Kurt."

Stepping outside into the morning sunshine, David, smiling, watched as Kurt climbed into his car and drove into the new day.

David, feeling lazy and almost happily dazed, returned to the living room couch and settled into a reclining position. He stared at the ceiling for a while, smiling, rolling over in his mind the events of the evening and the morning. At some point, David began to doze, sliding into a warm, pleasant sleep.

He was awakened by his phone: a call from Kurt as he'd promised. Less than thirty minutes had passed since Kurt left, but David felt like he had slept for hours.

"Hello?" David spoke groggily into the phone.

"Hi, David," Kurt answered. "I'll be helping at the garage for a few hours. I'm not sure how long, but I'll definitely call you when I'm finished."

"Okay, Kurt, um, I sorta fell asleep after you left," David said trying to shake the fog out of his head.

Kurt chuckled. "That's something you might need to teach me to do."

"Huh?"

"You have an enviable ability to fall asleep on command."

David chuckled, drowsily.

"Oh," Kurt said almost loudly. "I wanted to tell you, that ring that I dropped on the floor? The broken pieces are on that nightstand. You should just throw them away. I didn't know what to do with it this morning when it broke, I mean, we'd just gotten out of bed. I just don't want you to cut yourself on one of the pieces; just wanted you to be aware that it's there."

"Um, okay. Okay Kurt. Thanks for letting me know."

"Finn's waiting for me, so I need to get going," Kurt said before his voice softened, "but I'm looking forward to talking to you later."

"Me too," David said, softly. "Goodbye, Kurt."

"Goodbye, David."

David ended the call, and acquired a smile through his mental haze. If anything in his mind had doubted that the events of the last twelve hours actually transpired, if any part of him felt that his evening and morning of mutual declaration and fulfillment of feelings was a dream, David had hard evidence that it wasn't in the form of a shattered black-and-pink glass ring still in pieces on his nightstand.

 

* * *

 

"Hey!" David nearly yelled into his phone, excited.

"Good afternoon, David," Kurt answered back to him, somewhat softer but no less enthusiastic.

"Are you all finished at the garage?" David asked.

"No, actually, I'm at the garage now, but I'm just doing the end-of-the-day receipts and paperwork," Kurt explained. "Finn's finishing the actual work. We'll both probably be here until about six-thirty, no later than that, I'd say."

"What time are you headed out to Rachel's or Mercedes' or wherever you're going?"

"We're meeting at Breadstix first for dinner at about seven-thirty and then over to Rachel's house," Kurt said. "When are Chris and the other guys going to be at your place?"

"Probably around eight. They'll probably be here until around midnight or one, not too late." David paused for a moment. "Will I see you at the park tomorrow, Kurt?"

"Yes, I'll be there, probably with Finn," Kurt answered. "He didn't go today because of the long day at the garage today, but he said he'd be up for it tomorrow."

"I should probably get going," Kurt remarked, abruptly. "I need to finish up here and get cleaned up."

"Yeah, I need to get some things done before Strando and the guys arrive," David countered.

"But," Kurt added, "I did want to make sure I called you like I said I would."

"And I had my phone with me so I wouldn't miss your call," David spoke through a crooked smile.

"Have a good time tonight," Kurt said , somewhat softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

David nodded. "You too. You can text or call if you get bored or something."

Kurt laughed. "Thank you, David. You can do the same."

"Say 'hi' to the girls for me if you think that's appropriate."

"Okay. Goodbye, David."

"See you tomorrow, Kurt."

 

* * *

 

David: _Hey, Kurt. Here with Strando, Brandon, Jack, and Chuck. Having a good time, but wish you were here too._ 10:13PM

 

**Sunday, May 20**

David woke at six-thirty to the sound of his alarm clock. It wasn't quite light outside, but rising from bed seemed effortless for David this morning. He noticed that everything he did as he prepared to leave for Faurot Park, ordinary tasks, seemed somehow elevated, as if the acts of tying his shoelaces or zipping his hoodie were now pleasurable on some level. Reaching for his car keys on his desk, he saw the card Kurt had given him Friday evening, and it all made sense: the warmth he felt when he thought of Kurt was the cause, he was certain.

The park was in full early-morning sunlight as David's truck slowed to a stop and parked. David was surprised to see Finn's Cherokee instead of Kurt's Navigator; he was further surprised to see that Finn was at the park alone.

"Hey, Finn" David spoke as he climbed from his truck. "Where's Kurt?"

"Hi, Dave," Finn greeted as he did some final stretches. "Kurt got in kinda late, but not too late, I guess, I mean, I was still up. When I knocked on his door this morning, he didn't answer the first time. The second time he did and just said that he wanted to go back to sleep."

David's disappointment was obvious. "Did he seem okay when he got in last night?"

"Yeah, maybe a little quiet or weird, but not upset," Finn answered, "at least not that I could tell."

Both boys stood quietly for a moment before Finn asked, "You and Kurt?"

David nodded, face showing a slight grin through his concern, he answered quietly, "Yeah, me and Kurt."

Finn smiled. "I'm glad. I could kinda see it going that way. We all kinda could."

"I'm really happy about it," David said, smile becoming more pronounced.

Finn patted David roughly on his shoulder before the two boys began their morning run after which they found themselves eating breakfast in a quiet corner of a fast-food restaurant. Though the kitchen buzzed with activity and the drive-through window was getting heavy usage, David and Finn were the only two patrons in the dining area.

"So," David began quietly, almost awkwardly between bites of a breakfast sandwich, "did Kurt say anything about, um, him and me?"

Finn shook his head and swallowed, following with a chug of iced tea. "No, we really didn't talk much yesterday because it was so busy at the garage, and then he was off to hang out with Rachel and Mercedes. All I know is he said he was going over your place Friday night, he didn't come back until sometime yesterday morning, and he seemed pretty happy all day."

David smiled and paused, looking down at his breakfast for a moment.

"I just think it was kinda surprising that you guys went from, like, just hanging out with each other to, like, spending the night together," Finn added.

Though David's smile continued, his brow creased and he looked directly at Finn. "Finn, we just, like, talked about how we felt and decided that we both wanted to do this. We didn't, like, fool around or anything. I mean, he stayed at my house that one other time, and no one seemed to think twice about that."

Finn appeared somewhat taken aback, slightly embarrassed. "Um, I just kinda assumed that, uh, when two gay dudes get together, um, like that, something's gonna happen."

David's expression puzzled further, but he didn't appear disturbed or angry in the least. "Not to be nosey or anything, but did you jump right into Rachel's pants on your first date?"

"Uh, _no_ ," Finn nearly exclaimed, surprised, defensive, and definitely embarrassed.

"Quinn? You and her went out for a while as I recall. Did you get naked with her on your first date?"

" _Geeze_ , no," Finn was definitely defensive, "she was, like, head of the celibacy club at the time."

David was nearly laughing to himself. "Why would you then think that it's a given that two gay men are going to go that way the first time they have an opportunity to do so?"

Finn appeared blank. "I just thought that's how gay dudes were."

David, still smirking, shook his head slightly. "What about when Kurt and Blaine were dating? Did you assume that then?"

"Uh, no, because, like, someone was always around," Finn answered, "like me or Kurt's dad or they were out at Blaine's family's house."

David nodded. "We don't all operate that way, just like straight people. I'm sure you know straight dudes who pride themselves on getting some chick in the sack within an hour after meeting them."

"Mmm," Finn nodded assent, appearing uneasy.

David looked slightly more thoughtful. "Finn, I get the feeling that you're not entirely comfortable with the idea of, like, two guys... "

Finn interjected quietly, self-consciously. "Uh, _yeah_ , I've been through this with Kurt. Sometimes I think he tries to make me uncomfortable. I mean, I love Kurt like a brother, but there's just some things about it that still kinda weird me out."

David rolled his eyes and nodded. "Well, have you ever talked to Kurt about it?"

Finn looked nearly terrified, speaking quietly. " _No_ , Dave, it'd freak me out too much, and Kurt knows that, and I think he gets a kick out of it."

"Do you want me to try and explain it from my perspective?" David offered, appearing sincere, "I promise not to go into graphic details."

"Um," Finn hesitated, "sure."

"First, let me say that I can't claim to be any kind of authority on the subject," David began. "Before a day-and-a-half ago, I never had anything like a boyfriend, and I'd never even been on an actual date or anything, but I can say how I _think_ it's going to feel to me, at least so far as I can tell."

Finn listened intently.

"Okay, now, remember this point right now. This is the starting point, okay?"

Finn nodded, still listening but uncertain. "Okay."

"Well, when someone first finds someone else attractive, it's the always something pretty obvious like the way they look or the way they talk or the things that they say or their attitude or something, right?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"And then the attraction gets bigger, and the two people want to communicate with each other and understand each other. They communicate through talking and things like facial expressions, and holding hands and stuff like that."

Finn appeared to understand, more receptive, as David continued.

"And then they want to be closer and touch each other and communicate that way. Eventually they want to eliminate all the barriers and communicate what they feel with everything they have; and, ultimately, they want to get as close as they absolutely can be and become , like, _one thing_ for a while."

Finn appeared intense, aroused mentally if not physically by the manner in which David spoke.

"And for some people, that whole process might take a hour, but for some people, it might take weeks or months."

Finn nodded, seeming to understand.

"Does all that make sense?" David asked.

"Yeah," Finn answered, sounding as though suddenly something very obvious had dawned upon him.

"Okay, now remember at the beginning, when I told you to remember the point when I was starting?" David reminded. "I said, 'remember this point now, this is the starting point'."

Finn nodded, "Yeah, I remember."

"Okay, from that point until now, I didn't use any gender-specific words," David explained. "I didn't use words like 'guy', 'girl', 'he', 'she', 'him', 'her', or anything like that. The words I used could have applied to any two people."

Finn appeared puzzled at first, but smiled slightly as his understanding of David's explanation became more apparent. "When you say it that way," he paused, "it totally makes sense, Dave."

"And it doesn't weird you out?"

"No, no it doesn't," Finn answered through a dazed laugh.

"So," David posed, "if you got the image in your head of two dudes in bed, it wouldn't bother you?"

Finn's expression soured. "I think it would depend on how much skin I was seeing."

David laughed. "Okay, two guys getting cozy on a couch together at a party or something."

"Uhhh," Finn thought. "It would still depend. Do they just, like, have their arms around each other, or are they, like, slobbering all over each other? Because, to be honest, I really don't wanna see a guy and a girl slobbering all over each other either."

David laughed. "No, I think we're on the same page." He paused for a moment and addressed Finn seriously and thoughtfully. "I really care about Kurt. A lot."

Finn nodded and smiled. "I know. I can see it."

"Are the three of you, Rachel, Kurt, and you, moving to New York in the fall?" David asked.

Finn's expression became vague. "I'm pretty-sure it's a done-deal for Kurt and Rachel. Me? I'm not sure."

David's expression became somewhat concerned. "But you and Rachel are getting married, right?"

Finn appeared somewhat defeated. "If I get accepted to the acting school I applied to, yeah, I guess so."

"What if you don't?" David furthered.

Finn shook his head. "I'm seriously thinking about the army. Everybody around me is trying to talk me out of it."

"Dude, there's nothing wrong with that," David offered. "Honestly, I thought about the military a few times myself."

"Well, everybody believes I'm not living up to my potential if I do that. My mom doesn't want that for me because she had to deal with all of my dad's problems when he was came back from Iraq when I was really young."

David's look sobered, but he addressed Finn directly. "Dude, I would respect that decision. I mean, you don't seem sold on the idea of going to New York, and it doesn't seem like your very existence depends on getting into that acting school the way that Kurt and Rachel seem to think about the arts academy that they want to get into."

"No," Finn answered. "I really applied to that school because everyone was pressuring me to find something I wanted to do. I was thinking about the army months ago, and they kinda ambushed me to talk me out of it."

"Well," David addressed Finn, "you haven't made your decision yet, but, if you decide to go into the army, you have at least one person right here who will support that decision." David punctuated his statement with a nod.

Finn smiled. "Thanks, Dave."

The two boys had finished their breakfasts and were gathering their empty wrappers, cups, and trays. "I should really get outta here," David remarked.

"Yeah," Finn agreed, "I have stuff I gotta take care of at home."

The two boys stood from the table and carried the trays to the trash can at the exit door.

"And regardless of what you do decide," David added, "we gotta keep in touch, okay?"

Finn nodded and smiled as the two exited the restaurant to drive home.

 

* * *

 

"Hello, David," Kurt's voice crackled through David's phone on the third ring.

"Hi, Kurt," David replied, glad to hear Kurt's voice, knowing what he wanted to say, but unsure of how exactly to say it. "Missed you at the park this morning."

"Yeah," Kurt replied, sounding disappointed in himself, "sorry about that."

"That's okay. Hey, what are you doing right now?"

"Um, I'm not really doing anything," Kurt answered, slight confusion. "I slept late, I ate breakfast a while ago, and right now, I was just organizing some things in my room. while I finish doing some laundry."

"I don't want to impose, but, could I come over to your place?" David spoke, pausing nervously for a moment. "I really want to see you."

"Um," Kurt was surprised, but not negatively so. "Sure, David." Kurt's tone lightened. "I want to see you too."

David smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that. I'm in my truck, and I'm leaving as soon as I hang up. I'll see you in about fifteen."

"Okay, David. See you soon."

David arrived at Kurt's house almost directly: it was closer to ten than fifteen minutes of elapsed time. Kurt opened the front door, allowing David entrance. David looked around, noticing that the house was quiet.

"Anyone else around?" David asked.

"Not at the moment," Kurt answered. "Finn could be back at any time, and Sam will be out until evening."

Almost as if the absence of Finn and Sam was an invitation, David scooped Kurt into his arms, pulling him close. Kurt responded by moving forward, slowly pushing David's back against the wall of the entryway. It was a foregone conclusion of this action that their lips should meet in a lengthy kiss which seemed almost inappropriate for a Sunday afternoon. When their lips parted, David continued to hold Kurt and spoke, sounding nearly out-of-breath.

"I want to talk to you. I need to get this out right now." David loosened his hold and pulled away slightly so he could see Kurt's face. "Kurt, I'm smitten. I feel crazy, dizzy, happy just thinking about you. I'm getting pleasure out of the most mundane activities. Everything feels easy. I feel like I want to climb up onto my roof and yell to the world that I’m in love.'" David paused, almost panting; his voice became quiet. "Is this what it feels like to be in love, Kurt?"

"Why don't we go up to my bedroom," Kurt slowly answered, looking away from David slightly. "Like I said, I don't know when Finn might be back."

The two boys reached the top of the stairs, and Kurt opened his bedroom door, gently touching David's back to lead him inside, leaving the door open.

"You can sit wherever you like," Kurt said, a rather silly statement considering the room's lack of furniture, bed excepted. David sat on an edge of the bed, and Kurt followed, sitting softly beside him immediately.

"Well," Kurt began, "it seems like you're completely over that uncertainty you had."

"Maybe not exactly," David explained, "but the feelings I have right now are just too strong for logic: I'm just gonna roll with it." David turned his head to address Kurt with a dazed smile. "I have no idea how I came to even deserve you having the feelings for me that you say you do, but I'm not gonna question it any more."

Kurt smiled back, reassuring, appearing as if he was trying to come up with something to say, but not being able. Instead David spoke again. "Does this mean I'm in love with you, Kurt?"

"I don't know, David," Kurt replied quietly. "I thought I'd been in love before. What I have with you feels entirely different, but real. I think we just need to be with each other, watch what happens, and compare notes: in three months, we'll see what kinds of conclusions we can draw."

David smiled more certainly, shaking his head; both boys were silent for some minutes before David spoke, sounding uncertain. "So, um, sleep late this morning?"

Kurt's demeanor shifted melodramatically to something pained, though it was part affectation. "I slept badly last night. I was feeling for a while, and last night completely confirmed the feeling, that Mercedes, Rachel, and I have grown apart."

David reached his hand out to Kurt's shoulder as he spoke. "So, you had, like, a horrible time, and it prevented you from sleeping well?"

"I wouldn't say I had a _horrible_ time, exactly. I feel still that Mercedes and Rachel will be two of my best friends for a long time, maybe the rest of our lives. Where Mercedes is concerned, I can respect the way she acts and her attitude, I mean, she's kind-of really grown into herself; but we're not seeing things so much the same any longer."

"How do you mean?" David asked. "I never really knew her well."

Kurt bounced his head side-to-side before answering. "I should start by saying that I told them about you and me. Rachel was jumping up-and-down and congratulating me and clapping her hands like a little schoolgirl. Mercedes, on the other hand, was much less excited. She did say that it's obviously what I wanted and it made me happy, and, for that, she was happy for me. The thing is, Mercedes always really liked Blaine, she still does. She bent my ear about breaking up with him when that happened." Kurt paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Mercedes has incredible style, and we used to love that about each other. She's also, like, a gossip-queen, and, yes, I used to enjoy being a huge gossip as well, but I'm just not interested any longer. In addition to all of that, her post-graduation life will probably follow a drastically different path than mine will."

Kurt exhaled, a near-sigh. "And then, there's Rachel. We have so much in common and can talk about anything, but I feel like she's forever stuck at thirteen-years-old. Hopefully, Finn will be a buffer, because, otherwise, she'll maybe drive me insane over the next four years. And I feel for Finn, too." Kurt paused for a moment, then addressing David said, "Please tell me you'll be a consistent distraction."

David reached his arm further around Kurt's shoulder and offered an understanding smile. "So, you couldn't sleep because of a lousy night?"

"It wasn't a lousy night," Kurt attempted. "It was just the idea that it wasn't the same anymore. Maybe _I_ wasn't the same anymore."

David nodded as Kurt continued, "How was your night, David?"

David smirked. "I had a lot of fun with the guys, but, honestly, I wanted you to be there with me. They're gonna have to get used to you being around if they want to hang out with me."

Kurt smiled at this. "Did you tell them, then?"

"Well," David held out the word, "at first, I just told Strando." David paused and nodded. "I knew Strando would be okay with it, and, actually, he was happy about it. He shook my hand and asked why you weren't there. Then, later after all the guys settled in, I actually brought up your name in conversation, and Brandon asked how you were doing, and I casually mentioned that you and I were dating. That went over pretty well."

" _Pretty_ well?" Kurt asked, skeptically.

"At first, Jack and Chuck seemed a little uncomfortable, like they didn't know how to react; but after a couple of beers and a half-hour of stupid action-movie explosions, they were having a good time. I'm sure they're going to be fine with it, Kurt."

"Did you drink much?" Kurt asked.

"A couple of beers. Strando got a little silly. I've definitely seen him worse."

"Did they designate a driver?" Kurt asked, concerned.

"Yeah, they always do that," David answered.

"Well," Kurt said, "please let me know the next time you're planning something like that."

David smiled the most confident smile Kurt had seen from him yet that afternoon. "I'm sure that, once graduation is finished, Strando will be up for hanging out all of the time," David said as he leaned in closer, lowering his head and pressing it softly against Kurt's chest.

Kurt smiled and raised his hands, encircling David's head with his arms. The two sat on Kurt's bed in this posture for some time, soaking the closeness they felt. Kurt spoke, with a near-giggle, "You smell nice, David."

"Me?" he spoke, slightly muffled by his odd posture. "I'm just out of the shower before I came here. It's just shampoo, and body wash; maybe a little residual laundry detergent."

"I don't believe I've ever heard the term 'body wash' sound so sexy before, David," Kurt nearly purred through a crooked smile.

David's head lifted from Kurt's chest, shaking disbelief. He sat upright, smiled at Kurt's face, challenging. "You're always saying that I'm sexy, Kurt. I just don't see it."

"David, I've told you several times how you are sexy, in theory and practice."

David shook his head. "Yeah, but I still can't apply it to myself. I mean, think about it Kurt, do _you_ ever think of _yourself_ as sexy?"

Kurt's posture affected rigidity. "At the risk of sounding narcissistic, sure." David puzzled; Kurt continued. "Think about some of those super-tight, butt-hugging pants I wear. Would anyone who doesn't believe that they're sexy even _try_ to wear something like that?" Kurt folded his arms over his chest as if making a point while his expression and voice remained soft, approachable. "And there's nothing wrong with a little narcissism, is there?"

David sat back, away from Kurt, face more serious, but curious than analytical. "But, like, the way I'm dressed now couldn't possibly be _sexy_ , right?"

Kurt assessed David's attire. "No, David, it looks comfortable on you: the plaid button-down, the crew-neck T-shirt, the jeans."

"But c'mon," David nearly interjected, "I'm dressed like an Ohio-farmer's kid."

"It looks approachable, it looks wholesome, and it looks kinda innocent. There's something sexy in all of that. And also in the fact that you're kind-of clueless about your sexiness: that, in itself is sexy." David's face surrendered to a smile as his cheeks reddened and Kurt continued. "I gotta say, the polo shirts are a mixed-bag. Polo shirts are almost never 'sexy' exactly, but sometimes you look just fine in them, and sometimes they're a little unflattering. I think it had something to do with how they fit. Varsity jackets are, like, the aesthetic antithesis of sexy on anyone: they give just about everyone who wears one the profile of a sack of potatoes. The cargo pants always worked on you, but we've got to find you some jeans that your butt doesn't get completely lost in."

"Yeah," David agreed, seeming uncomfortable. "I think it's my short legs; I don't think my butt has ever looked really good in a pair of jeans."

Kurt's conversation drifted. "You looked sexy in those pictures from Thurston's homecoming dance," Kurt said. "You looked sexy in the suit you wore to your commencement."

"I'll agree with you on both counts there, Kurt," David admitted.

"You looked sexy in the bowling shirt I got for you."

David snickered. "Maybe, but the wife-beater you had me wear under it didn't make me feel comfortable exactly."

"Trust me, David, me and everyone else thought you looked hot."

"'Hot?'" David repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, David, 'hot'," Kurt nodded, rolling his eyes before speaking more softly. "You know, you really looked kinda cuddly-sexy in just the plain T-shirt you wore while we ate breakfast yesterday."

David shook his head and looked downward, trying to conceal his very obvious smile as Kurt stood up and took his hand.

"Come here, David," Kurt led David to his _en suite_ bathroom and had him sit on the bench in front of Kurt's large vanity mirror. Kurt took the seat next to him, both boys facing toward the mirror, Kurt leaning in close to David.

"What do you see, David?" Kurt asked softly.

"You and me," David offered in response.

"What else?" Kurt expanded. "If you never saw those two people before, what would you see?"

David was silent for some time, eyes roaming from one part of the reflection to another, from Kurt's face to his face to Kurt's hand resting on his shoulder to the whole of the image. David was absorbed but remained silent, eyes searching, expression optimistic but analytical.

"This is what I see," Kurt finally answered, "I see two handsome, sexy, happy men."

David's face slowly broke into a smile as he continued to search the reflection, finding evidence of Kurt's statement within. Unlike other times, David didn't hide his smile or pretend that it wasn't there. He felt discovered in a definitive way, he wasn't even going to try to affect indifference.

"You make me feel amazing, Kurt."

"You _are_ amazing, David."

David's smile broke full-on. Kurt was smiling also, but it was smaller, more reserved: an appreciation of the small epiphany he watched playing out on David's face. Finally, David's eyes pulled away. He reached to Kurt and pulled him close, closed his eyes, and drank the warmth of the embrace.

"Let's go out and do something today," David spoke, nearly whispered while holding Kurt close.

"Did you want to maybe just go to your place while you still have the house to yourself?" Kurt answered, pulling away slightly to see David's face.

"No," David answered, quietly but bluntly, shaking his head. "I wanna go out somewhere. I don't really care what we do. Dinner, movie, just walk around at the park or the mall, it doesn't matter. I just wanna be seen with you. I wanna show you off, Kurt."

Kurt smiled and looked away, his turn to be caught defenseless by a compliment. Finally, he looked up. "Do you want to ask any of your other friends?"

"No," David's answer was immediate. "Just me and you."

Kurt smiled and stood from his seat. "Let me go pull my last bunch of laundry up from downstairs. Then we can look around on my laptop and see what might be happening around town today." Kurt took David's hand as David stood also. "Follow me down to the living room and make yourself comfortable. I won't be more than a few minutes."

Kurt returned after a short time, setting his laptop on the surface of the coffee-table as David moved close, next to Kurt on the couch, arm wrapping loosely around Kurt as Kurt checked for possible activities for the day.

Kurt sighed, slight futility. "There's nothing that interests me at the movies," Kurt said, "Anything interesting you, David?"

David's face grimaced slightly. "No, can't say there's anything I'm dying to see." David paused for a moment before suggesting, "Hey, did you check that, like, old theater where we saw that crazy gross-out horror movie?"

"Ooh," Kurt said, an edge of surprise, "good idea." After a few clicks, he found the website for the old movie-house. "It says they're showing _Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf_ as part of their 'classic film series'."

"I have no idea what that's all about, but I'm open to almost anything," David remarked.

"It's a Liz Taylor movie from the sixties, so that's interesting to me right there. It's based on a play. Otherwise, I know nothing about it. The movie is at four o'clock."

"Okay, how 'bout this," David offered. "It's not even one-thirty yet. It's a nice day. We can get out there, walk around the area, maybe have lunch, see the movie, maybe scope out dessert or coffee if we're hungry after. We should be back here by eight at the latest."

"Sounds like a plan, David," Kurt smiled as he rose from the couch. "You're really good with that spontaneous thing. Give me about fifteen or twenty to get ready. You can take one of your legendary power-naps until then."

David snickered. "I can try, but I think my adrenaline is pumping a little too high right now. I'll just be sitting here patiently waiting for you."

Kurt arrived back downstairs and ready to leave within fifteen minutes. He left a note for Finn, and he and David were on the road directly. They arrived in East Lima near the OSU campus just after two o'clock, and, leaving David's truck parked in a parking garage, they proceeded to casually explore the area on foot.

For lunch, they discovered a quaint sandwich shop with an outdoor dining area located a block from the theater. The weather was perfect for dining outdoors; and, although the two of them were alone in the row of tables along the generally-quiet Sunday afternoon street of the college-town, Kurt was warmed as David reached across the table to hold his hand while they waited for their order to arrive. David and Kurt briefly held hands in the movie theater, but the extreme nature of the on-screen action left Kurt to abandon David's hand early-on to dramatically cover his mouth in shock. David, though not as physically reactive, was no less stunned by the film. A short walk to Moo-La-La for dessert and coffee followed the film. Though the decor was as visually obnoxious as Kurt and David remembered, the Sunday evening atmosphere was quieter and easier on the other senses. Instead of a loud band, there was a girl playing an acoustic guitar and singing to the appreciative, modestly-sized crowd.

Kurt and David had returned to Kurt's house before eight o'clock and were back in Kurt's bedroom directly. They began by sitting next to each other, but before long, David found himself reclining on a pillow and propped against the headboard of Kurt's bed. Kurt's back was leaning into David, his head resting on David's chest. David's hands held Kurt's and rested over Kurt's heart.

"I had a fantastic day, David," Kurt spoke quietly.

"Me too," David replied. "Everything was really good. Y'know, I could watch movies like that on a regular basis. That was every bit as intense as an action movie filled with car chases and explosions, but on a totally different level. It left me exhausted. My mind was _fried_ by the time we walked out of that theater."

"It was definitely crazier than what I was expecting," Kurt agreed. "You know they're showing _Pink Flamingos_ there in two weeks at a Friday midnight show. You think we should get a group of us together to go?"

David chuckled. "I dunno. Could be interesting. Have you ever seen it?"

"No, but I've read about it," Kurt replied. "Have you seen it?"

"No, but Ricky was dressed as the lead character at the Scandals Halloween party. I saw _that_."

Kurt chuckled and changed the subject as his laughter quieted. "The singer at the coffeehouse was really good. She was taking requests. I wanted to have her sing something for us, but I couldn't think of any songs that reminded me of us. Can you think of any?"

David nearly laughed aloud. "Kurt, we've only been an 'us' for two days. That's really not a lot of time to think about stuff like that."

"It seems like it's been longer maybe," Kurt laughed quietly in response, "And my mind tends to think that way, in musical terms." Kurt could feel David nodding agreement as a response.

"I'm glad we got back early too because I really appreciate spending time with you like this," David volunteered quietly. Kurt nodded as David continued. "I didn't want to be too late. I need to clean up the house a little before my parents come back tomorrow."

"Yes," Kurt added, "and, although my school obligations are finished, school is still in session until the commencement Thursday evening."

"We have some time, though, right?" David asked optimistically.

"Mm-hmm," Kurt hummed an affirmative response. "I don't want to be up too late, but, like you said it's still early. I'm really enjoying this, David."

"Me too," David nearly breathed out his response.

The two lay quietly embraced, peacefully, the sound of their breathing present but barely audible.

"There's something that's becoming _really obvious_ , David, right at this moment," Kurt spoke, a hushed-but-direct comment, "something that's making its _presence felt_."

David smiled, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I know. I'm not quite ready to go there yet, but, yeah, it's obvious."

"Well, at least you're conscious of it and acknowledge that it's there. Blaine just ignored it when it happened."

"Please don't compare me to Blaine," David's tone sobered, slightly louder. "I mean, I know there's this tendency because you were with him for a while, and you have nothing other than him to compare anything with; but, like, I'm gonna get these 'inadequate' feelings."

"David, _why_?" Kurt sounded in an almost scolding tone.

David huffed loudly. "Because, although he's younger than me, he's so much more aware and ahead of the curve than I am, even now. And that he was kinda to you what you have been to me. He helped you early-on."

"David, you have no reason to feel that way," Kurt said, understanding. "We all move at our own speed. The fact that we've arrived here is what's important. The fact that you and me are together now trumps everything that we went through to put us here." Kurt elevated himself slightly, turning over to face David, standing on his knees, straddling David's hips, making himself as conspicuous as possible.

"Oh, geeze!" David snickered, a nervous-but-genuine smile, eyeing the topography of Kurt's form. "That's pretty _obvious_ too."

Kurt smiled in return, lowering himself onto David's chest, their bodies touching along the entirety of their available surfaces.

David continued to smile, somewhat awed. His breathing became slightly unsteady. "I'm nervous, Kurt."

"I'm not going to push you into anything, David," Kurt spoke, nearly whispering. "We don't have to go there tonight or really anytime soon; but, I'd just like to know, does it make you glad to know that you have that effect on me?"

"Yes," David said, his voice reaching a high pitch, nearly a squeak, "very much." David craned his head up and kissed Kurt's forehead. "With that, though, I should really get moving. If not, our urges are going to start talking faster than our brains can function. Call me a sap, but I'd really like to wait until we had more time and didn't need to squeeze it into a half-hour."

Kurt's face, resting on David's chest, smiled. "I agree. And that's another really amazing thing about you, David.

"Besides," David began, "although I was able to contain the fallout from last night's get-together to the gameroom, I still need to do some cleaning-up." David shifted, and Kurt stood slowly as David continued. "My dad's cool, and he probably realizes that my friends and I drink beer, but I'm sure he doesn't want the evidence hanging in front of him."

Both boys stood, facing each other. "Thank you for a wonderful day, David," Kurt spoke, looking upward into David's eyes.

David smiled, looking straight into Kurt's eyes. "You're welcome. You're not the only one who had a wonderful day. Thank you for having it with me."

"I'll walk you to the door," Kurt said as David turned toward the bedroom door.

The two walked down the steps, single-file, coming to a rest in the darkened entryway. They stood, facing each other for a moment, slowly leaning into a kiss. From the periphery of his vision, Kurt saw Finn walk toward them, then turn away quickly, an embarrassed smile on his face. Kurt suppressed a laugh as David, unconscious of the visual exchange placed his lips against Kurt's.

The kiss lingered for a moment before they pulled apart, and David walked out of the house, climbed into his truck, and drove into the darkening twilight.

Kurt approached the family room where Finn was watching the television, reclining on the couch.

"I guess you know about David and me?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," Finn's attention did not stray from the television, "I could see it coming."

"I guess you're alright with it?"

Finn nodded. "Yep, no problems."

"Looked like you were alright with what you saw by the front door?" Kurt phrased the statement as a question.

Finn's gaze broke away from the television as he met Kurt's face directly with a relaxed smile. "Didn't bother me at all, Kurt."

"Good. Thanks." Kurt quietly walked away and back up the stairs to his bedroom with a newly-acquired respect for Finn which fully obscured his slight disappointment in the notion that he may never again be able to use the ideas of male-on-male intimacy to make Finn squirm.

 

**Monday, May 21**

"Hey, Dad, have a minute?"

"Sure, David," Paul looked upward from his answering machine, having just returned and preparing to check his messages from the weekend.

"Did you and Mom have a good time?" David asked.

Paul smiled, nearly laughed. "Yes, we had a really nice time. The weather was perfect, and our friends took us out on their sailboat on Saturday. Really wonderful. Thanks for asking."

"That's good," David replied quietly, looking downward as his posture betrayed an awkward approach. "Um, Dad, Kurt and I are, uh, 'official'."

Paul's face addressed David's with a cautious, reserved smile. "I know, David. Kurt spent the night here Friday night."

David was stunned. Before he could get out a reply or ask how Paul knew, Paul spoke bluntly. "You sent me a picture of the two of you having breakfast. Your hair was messed-up like you just rolled out of bed, and Kurt was wearing pajamas. It really wasn't hard to figure out, David."

"Uh," David began, "if it makes you feel any better, we didn't, like, fool around or anything."

Paul was silent for a moment, addressing David's eyes straight-on, still a trace of a smile on his face. "David, I believe you; but only because you're you. I remember what it was like to be your age, and, if any other eighteen-year-old told me that they spent an entire night with their boyfriend or girlfriend while their parents were away and nothing questionable happened, I wouldn't believe them." David looked up, face giving way to a smile as Paul continued. "I'm happy for you. I know it's what you wanted, and it makes me feel good to know that it makes you happy. Your mom and I could both see it coming; probably everybody could. I trust you to be responsible and intelligent in whatever capacity that requires. Kurt seems like an intelligent and responsible kid too. We like Kurt."

"Um," David began, "so mom knows too?"

"Ah, I didn't show her that picture if that's what you mean," Paul replied. "I'm not sure she's ready to know that you two spent the night together. She'd be fine knowing that you two are together as boyfriends, though, I'm pretty sure."

David smiled, relieved.

"But you should be the one to tell her that," Paul added.

"I should probably go do that now," David replied.

"No time like the present," Paul said, smiling.

David turned to address Paul before leaving the room, a serious: appreciative expression. "Dad, you're the best."

"Thanks, David," Paul answered, "I love you too."

David arrived at the threshold of his parents' bedroom while his mother was unpacking a few small overnight bags. A larger bag was on the floor.

"Hi, Mom," David greeted Lorraine.

"Hello, David," she responded, almost melodically.

"Is this one going into the laundry?" David said, gesturing to the bag on the floor.

Lorraine nodded affirmation.

"I can grab it on my way out, then," David offered.

"Thank you," his mother said to him directly, smiling, "That's very thoughtful."

"Dad said you had a nice time away," David remarked.

Lorraine smiled before answering. "Yes, we did. Perfect weather, good food, very relaxing, not a thing to complain about." Lorraine pointed at a brown-paper gift-bag marked with the name and logo of a souvenir shop. "We brought you back a T-shirt."

David smiled, _the inevitable, tourist-trap T-shirt_ , he thought. He reached for the bag and opened it. Inside was a typical black T-shirt in David's size marked with the words Bar Harbor, Maine on the front and a design on the back which consisted of a representation of the US flag using boat parts as design elements. Beneath it, however, at the bottom of the bag, was another T-shirt in a smaller size colored light blue; it was covered in an all-over design with outline representations of nautical symbols in a dark blue color giving the shirt the overall appearance of a wearable blueprint.

"There are two shirts in here, and this one is never going to fit me," David said to his mother.

"Oh, the smaller one is for Kurt," Lorraine spoke, smiling at David directly. "Do you think he'll like it?"

David smiled and blushed, betraying some level of embarrassment. "Yeah, it looks like something he'll wear."

Lorraine put aside her unpacking and approached David closer. "David. your father and I can see that, if you and Kurt aren't exactly officially 'dating' right now, you will be soon."

"Um, we are, actually," David interjected.

Lorraine gave David a rehearsed-looking, supportive smile, perhaps betraying some very minor reservations which she herself would have considered negligible at the time. "David, I'm glad you told me; and if Kurt makes you happy, which it really seems that he does, I'm very happy for you." With that, Lorraine reached outward, embracing David, pulling him close. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for being so understanding about it, Mom."

As the two withdrew from each other, David slid the T-shirts back into the gift bag and reached toward the bag on laundry on the floor. "And thanks for the T-shirts, Mom."

"You're welcome," Lorraine exchanged, melodically again, as she returned her attention toward her unpacking.

David took the large bag of laundry downstairs, past the gameroom, and into the laundry room. Retaining the gift bag of T-shirts, he stopped at Paul's office again.

"I see you have your T-shirts," Paul said, a grin on his face.

David smiled similarly. "You set me up, Dad."

Paul's smile broke, full-on. "Well, I do think that she should have heard it from you, and I'm proud of you that you told the both of us." David nodded, and Paul paused for a moment before he continued. "It's good practice. If you can tell your parents, everyone else should be pretty easy, right?"

"Yeah," David answered. "And everyone else is a lot less important."

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 9,500

**Chapter 36**

 

**Monday, May 21, continued**

"How could you do that to me?" Blaine nearly squeaked, high-pitched at Kurt.

Kurt, taken aback at the excessive display, shook his head. "Okay, Blaine, what am I _doing_ to you?" Kurt's tone was controlled, unemotional.

"I feel like you dumped me for Karofsky." Blaine's eyes fixed, accusing on Kurt, voice strong but raspy, an audible hint of breakdown.

"Blaine, you and I broke up almost two months ago." Kurt's voice was strong but quieter, determined. "You seemed fairly well-adjusted. I wasn't detecting any resentment or bitterness. And, and David and I, well, it just felt like it was happening."

"I guess my being the lead-voice of the Warblers last year and successor to the face of the New Directions next year and the guy who took you under his wing and helped you with every little crisis you had last year, well, I guess that wasn't enough; I guess that can't compete with someone who turned an attempted suicide into an internet sensation. I mean, I guess I'm just no competition for that." Blaine's tone was hard.

At this point a crowd was beginning to gather: Mercedes, Rachel, and Tina were watching from one side. Chris Strando and some of the other football players were gathering from the other.

Kurt lost his indifferent demeanor, and his face took on an expression of disgust. "First of all, Blaine, you are making a scene here in the school hallway. If this can't wait, which, for you it obviously can't, I'd like you to at least speak with some measure of civility. Second, I can't believe that I had misjudged your character so drastically. I thought you were the well-mannered, well-appointed, unfailingly proper, respectful, understanding, perfect man you projected. This has revealed you to be unbelievably vain, incredibly cruel, self-centered, selfish, inexcusably petty, and irrationally needy. It's like you feel as though your prep-school credentials, undeniable talent, charm, and well-monitored breeding entitle you to preferential consideration. I don't think you want a boyfriend who represents any level of equality with what you feel about yourself: what you want is a groupie."

As the level of Kurt's voice lowered, conscious of the attention he and Blaine were drawing, the gathered parties drew closer.

"You know, the sickest thing about this is that David really likes you. He respects you. Do you know how hurt he'd be if he heard what you just said, Blaine?"

Blaine's eyes widened as if enraged, then narrowed in an expression of near-repulsion. "Oh, and I suppose Karofsky treats you like an equal," Blaine spat, voice quieter than before.

Kurt's eyes shot to Blaine's, straight-on: "Off the record, yes he does; for the record, that's really none of your fucking business." Kurt's voice was nearly a hiss: quiet but aggressive. "I don't get this, Blaine. You were fine with David a week ago. You've been fine with him ever since you made an ass out of yourself that Sunday night when we all went to karaoke. And, Blaine, you owe him for the respectful way he treated you that night. I thought that was understood."

"That was before it occurred to me that this thing with you and Karofsky was probably going on the whole time." Blaine's voice was quieter but no less angry, and it had developed an audible tremble; for that matter, there was a visible tremor to Blaine’s posture as well.

"Blaine, you know me better than that. I thought I knew you. I was obviously wrong. I will not dignify anything you just said with a response. If you cool off and come to your senses, you know where I can be reached. Until then, this conversation is over."

Kurt turned, a hard, strong expression on his face, and began walking away from Blaine. As if instinctively, Strando and Brandon jumped behind Kurt forming a two-man shield against any assault, verbal or physical, which might have been coming from Blaine's direction. When Kurt was several yards away, he heard Blaine emit a howl of pain and rage which echoed in the hall. Stunned, Mercedes raised her hands to Blaine's mouth, silencing him, as Finn nervously held Blaine by his shoulders, preventing him from advancing in the direction of Kurt. Kurt did not look back.

Once around a corner and near a side exit, Kurt, expression unbending, turned to face Chris and Brandon. "Thanks, you two," Kurt spoke to the larger boys. "Listen," Kurt continued, "I don't want you two to mention this to David, okay?" Chris and Brandon nodded silently. "I will tell David about this on my own," Kurt concluded, "Thanks again, guys."

Brandon nodded while Chris reached out and gave Kurt a one-armed bro-hug, gentler but no less symbolic than one he would have given one of his team-mates as a sign of solidarity.

Kurt left the building and cut a straight path to the student parking lot and his Navigator, face stoic and unbending: strong. Once inside his car, however, he slowly began to melt. With his forehead resting on the steering wheel, his entire form dissolved from strength to heartbreak. When Blaine unfairly insulted David, it didn't merely hurt Kurt on David's behalf; it hit Kurt harder than if he'd have been the object of Blaine's attack. After some minutes, Kurt, realizing that the school day was only half-over, decided to approach the office to request an early dismissal: technically, Kurt wasn't sick, but he certainly felt unwell.

Kurt drove home to an empty house: Finn and Sam were likely staying the rest of the day in school. Kurt sent them both a text message informing them that he had left early. Both of them correctly assumed that they knew the reason why. Burt and Carole would be arriving Tuesday evening. Kurt appreciated the time by himself. He wanted to call David, but he didn't want to reveal the reason why he'd left school early: he felt that David might blame himself for Kurt's and Blaine's splintering friendship.

Instead, Kurt pecked out a text message to Blaine.

Kurt: _I want to talk to you when you're ready to speak to me in a civil manner. Not before._ 1:22PM

Kurt received an immediate response.

Blaine: _what if i can't talk to you in a civil manner?_ 1:23PM

Kurt replied immediately.

Kurt: _Well, then I will assume that we won't be talking again._ 1:23PM

Kurt nearly jumped in his seat as, seconds later, his phone rang. It was Mercedes.

"Hello, Mercedes," Kurt held out the words as if slightly annoyed.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!" Mercedes scolded from the other side. "Where in the hell are you?"

"I'm home," Kurt vocalized, sounding calm. "I couldn't put up with that insanity, and the rest of the day would have been spent marking time while other students fulfilled their final-exam requirements. Where are you calling me from?" 

"I ditched my study hall for the choir room," Mercedes replied, her voice sounding less frantic. "With finals over, it's not like there's anything left to study for anyway."

"How's everything at the school, Mercedes?" fatigued-sounding again.

"Kurt, I told you on Saturday night that this was gonna be trouble. I knew there was gonna be a shitstorm when Blaine found out about you and Dave."

"Mercedes," Kurt sounded pleading, "you know, I lost sleep over this Saturday night after we talked about it; I considered calling Blaine over the weekend to try and be preemptive." Kurt paused. "Do you really think this, today, was called-for?"

"No. Absolutely not, but I also know Blaine, and I could see it coming."

Kurt shook his head. "Well, I'm baffled. Honestly, I thought he was completely over this. He and David had been around each other recently, and he seemed fine with that, even friendly; and Blaine and I were back to being friends. I really don't know how to approach this, and I told Blaine that I won't approach this until he's ready to speak to me in a conversational tone-of-voice."

"Honey," Mercedes began, "I could see it sometimes when you weren't around, and sometimes when you were and he wasn't the center of attention."

"What do you mean?"

"It was bad enough if all eyes weren't on him, but if he thought you were stealing his spotlight, I could just see him go all livid beneath the surface," Mercedes ominously voiced. "It's like he considered you his property or apprentice or something."

Kurt rolled his eyes and dramatically answered. "Mercedes, honestly, now you have me... almost _mad_. Why do you like Blaine so much when you could see that was going on? I mean, _I'm_ supposed to be your best friend here."

Kurt heard Mercedes nearly sigh and remain silent for some time before answering. "It's embarrassing, Kurt."

"What?"

"The reasons why," Mercedes answered.

"Out with it, Mercedes," Kurt began to sound impatient.

"Kurt, you two were so cute together, and you looked so right together. It's like you and Blaine looked like you belonged. It was the kind of gay couples they show on TV all the time. And, honestly, I thought it worked out really nice with Blaine being one of the boys and you being... "

"Okay, stop right there," Kurt interrupted. "I don't want to hear any more of that."

"Kurt, I thought that's what made you happy; what made you _you_ ," Mercedes managed to get out.

Kurt was silent for a moment before he asked, "How does everyone else at school feel about this thing that happened today with Blaine?"

"Oh, after Blaine's spoiled-brat hissy-fit this afternoon?" Mercedes said directly, "Everyone's on your side."

"And where is Blaine now?" Kurt asked.

"Last I heard, he was sent to Miss Pillsbury's office and was cooling down there."

"And you say everyone's on my side?" Kurt asked.

"Everyone is with you, everyone who knows the story. You and Blaine have been done for over a month. He had no reason to be hanging onto you like that."

Kurt exhaled loudly before speaking. "How do _you_ feel about this, Mercedes? Along with Rachel, you are collectively Blaine's and my closest friends."

"That boy Blaine is on the edge of psycho and really has some issues to work out," Mercedes opined. "Kurt, I know Dave makes you happy."

Kurt snapped sarcastically, "But can you get over losing your perfect gay couple consisting entirely of media stereotypes?"

Mercedes didn't react, feeling justly scolded.

Kurt continued. "For the record, David and I look incredible together. Also for the record, and possibly counter to impressions I may have given in the past, I'm a man, and I wouldn't be anything else." Kurt's voice became quieter. "David understands that about me, and I don't think Blaine ever did."

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Mercedes was genuinely contrite.

"It's okay, Mercedes. We're all growing up and becoming more defined versions of ourselves. I guess it's the last thing anyone expected from me."

"You're still you, Kurt. I can see that."

"Thanks," Kurt paused. "And thanks for calling, Mercedes. It's good to know that there are people with me on this. Sometimes I felt like if I said anything against Blaine, I'd get scolded as if he was my best and only option. Like I was lucky that he'd even look at me. Like I'd end up being some pathetic gay spinster without him, and, y'know, for a while, I almost bought into it."

"Kurt, you're a really special guy, and I know you and I have grown apart," Mercedes sounded regretful.

"Hey," Kurt cut her off before she could continue. "You and I helped each other get through high school. I'm always going to love you as one of my best friends for that."

"Thanks, Kurt, and you're right," Mercedes replied through a relieved laugh, "There's no way we'd have made it through the last three years without each other."

"Mercedes, I should probably get going and figure out how I'm going to handle this thing concerning Blaine going forward," Kurt explained, "and I have no idea how I'm going to tell David."

"Do you have to tell David?" Mercedes asked.

"Yes, I do," Kurt answered directly. "I can't just sweep this under the rug or something, it would be too obvious when Blaine and I have been best friends. I don't think David will take it well. He's sometimes really hard on himself, and I have a feeling that he'll blame himself for this."

"Well, I hope everything goes okay with that, Kurt," Mercedes said.

"And I'd like for some of us to go somewhere and hang out with David and me sometime so you can see how awesome we are together," Kurt proposed.

Mercedes laughed happily. "We'll hafta work that in before I leave for the west coast. Goodbye, Kurt. See you in school tomorrow?"

"Yes, you'll see me in school tomorrow. I'm not going to avoid having a life because Blaine can't handle something. I did that kind of thing too often when Blaine and I were together. Bye, Mercedes, and thanks again for keeping me in the loop."

Kurt ended the call to see that a text message had arrived during the call.

David: _Hi Kurt. I know you won't be home from school for a while, but I figured your day would be pretty boring. If you're bored, I'm here._ 2:13PM

Kurt wasted no time dialing David's number immediately.

"Hey, Kurt. What's going on?" Kurt heard, warm-sounding, through the phone.

"Hello, David," Kurt answered, a slight whine in his fatigued voice. "I left school early today. I need to talk to you."

"Something's wrong," David detected from Kurt's tone of voice. "You want me there? I'm there in fifteen if you do."

Kurt made a few uncertain-sounding noises before saying, "You don't have to go out of your way, really; I just need to talk to you, like, today."

"Kurt, that's all I need to know. I'm on my way over. See you in a few."

With David's words, the call went silent.

As promised, David arrived at Kurt's house within fifteen minutes. Kurt let him in the front door, and David could sense by Kurt's expression that Kurt was under some weight of stress. David approached Kurt and held him loosely, studying Kurt's face for clues as to what might be wrong: he wanted to hold him closer but was unsure of the problem.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" David finally said quietly.

Kurt moved into David's arms more closely, holding his cheek against David's shoulder, calming David's uncertainty.

After a moment of holding himself close to David, Kurt said, "Come sit down, David; I need to talk to you."

Kurt led David to the couch: David on a far side near an armrest; Kurt sat beside him.

Kurt exhaled, nearly a sigh of defeat, before speaking. "Blaine had a tantrum today."

David's expression became quizzical: creased brow, subtle head-shake.

"It's you and me. He says that he feels like I dumped him for you."

David's eyes widened as he looked downward, shaking his head. "Kurt, that doesn't make any sense." He spoke quietly, but his twitchy gestures betrayed his discomfort and feelings of guilt.

Kurt reached for and touched David's hand, sensing David's unease. "David, Blaine has no reason to feel like that. We were over for nearly two months. And, and the way it happened, well, he walked into that; he gave me every reason to not want him that way. His behavior now is an extension of that. I'm not going to stand for it."

"But I thought you guys were gonna remain friends," David spoke softly, almost a pleading tone. "Y'know, I was hoping that you and I would have this great time together this summer before going away in the fall. And I wanted all of our friends being part of that, Blaine included." David's face pained somewhat. "I considered Blaine a friend, I mean, it really felt that way."

Kurt held his forehead in his hands, elbow on his knee, body pitched forward. "For the past few months, Blaine has revealed himself to be someone other than the person I thought I knew. He's said and done things I really didn't think he was capable of."

David reached his hand up to Kurt's back, a gesture of support. "Um, Kurt, I really don't know Blaine much at all. I mean, we've only talked one-on-one a couple of times. Do you think it'd help if I talked to him?"

"No!" Kurt's answer was emphatic and immediate. "I really would rather that you didn't do that."

"Kurt, I'm part of this," David spoke in a reasoned tone, hand gently rubbing Kurt's back. "I feel terrible if what happened with you and me caused a problem between you and one of your closest friends. I'd feel the same way if the idea of you and me being together caused a problem with you and Mercedes or you and Finn; but it wouldn't change my mind or make me regret where you and I are right now. This feels good for me, and I know it's something that you want too."

Kurt smiled, small but genuine, turning to take in David's face. "I don't want you talking to Blaine, David. He said some things that I don't want you to hear."

David smiled somewhat crookedly, shaking his head. "You're protecting me, Kurt. It's really sweet." David reclined into the corner of the couch, placing his hand around Kurt's shoulder to pull him back with him; Kurt offered no resistance, gently falling into David and resting his cheek on David's shoulder. A lock of Kurt's hair had fallen forward onto his forehead; David lightly swept it back with his index finger.

"Did I ever tell you about what happened between Azimio and me?" David began in a soft voice.

Kurt, facing down, turned his eyes upward at David and shook his head. "No, I only assumed that something happened and you weren't friends any longer."

"See, Kurt, a few months ago, when everything was going really bad for me, when I was at my lowest point, I considered Zee to be my best friend. I really needed to talk to someone. My dad said he was okay with me, but he didn't show it; my mom was ready to ship me off to have me deprogrammed or something. I didn't feel I knew or trusted any of my other friends well enough to talk to them. Azimio had been my best friend for years." David paused, inhaling and biting his lower lip momentarily. "When I came out to Zee, he rejected me, flat out. It was the coldest, hardest thing I'd ever felt, and it hurt so freaking bad, Kurt. It hurt like nothing else I ever felt. Three days later, when I was ready to end it, I was numb. In pain, but numb. Even what I felt right then didn't hurt me like Azimio's last words to me did. They just ripped me apart inside." David paused for a moment as Kurt's face took on a sorrowful expression. "The thing is, Kurt, Zee wasn't the friend I thought he was. I had people I could have talked to who would have been okay with me. I have more real friends now than I did then, and Zee certainly didn't turn out to be a real friend."

"You tried to talk to me," Kurt muttered, betraying guilt.

"We've already talked about that, Kurt, and you shouldn't hold onto any guilt with that just like I shouldn't want to keep apologizing for things that happened months ago. But, just as I have this tendency to feel sorry for my past horrible behavior, I know that's probably going to continue to bother you on some level; and I don't want to know that you still have guilt feelings about that any more than you want to hear me say that I'm sorry for things that happened a year-and-a-half ago."

David paused for a moment before continuing. "See, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive Azimio," David confessed. "It just hurt too much, and it was so fucking deliberate and cold; and I came to him as a friend in a desperate, hurt state. Blaine, though, I don't know what he could have said, but it was probably in the heat of anger or confusion or something." David paused. "Do you think Blaine still maybe has feelings for you?"

Kurt paled for a moment before answering. "I think this is a vanity thing with Blaine. If that's the case, it shows me how really unimportant a factor I was in our friendship as well as our relationship. It wasn't that he was so attached to me as much as it was the fact that someone besides him could have me: that's what got to him."

"Wow," David sounded genuinely surprised. "Is he _really_ like that? I mean, he seems so, like, together and friendly and confident and genuine."

"He's definitely fantastic at being exactly what he thinks everyone expects him to be at any given time: proper, well-groomed, universally desirable; and, yes, when all of that hard work of a well-honed image and reputation doesn't seem to be enough, he acts out of selfishness."

David puzzled further. "You don't think he _ever_ had feelings for you? I mean, he defended you from me. More than once we were in each other's faces."

Kurt shook his head. Confused. "Honestly, David, I think he was acting out of what he thought some rule book would tell him to do. Everything about Blaine on every level conforms to some stereotype of perfection, some pre-determined etiquette, but it's all just a mask. I won't say that some of his actions aren't borne out of responsibility or a genuine sense of integrity, but that's something that can be affected also."

"And you don't think that he's just hurt that you found someone else before he did?" David asked.

"No, that's exactly why he's bothered," Kurt interjected. "He'd have probably been fine if he'd have had a new boyfriend before I did. As long as his 'someone else' was hotter than I am."

David's brow creased. "People are so confusing. I don't like what Azimio did to me, but at least I can chalk it up to ignorance. And maybe I still prefer to believe that Blaine's still acting as the bitter ex-boyfriend. And if that's the case, I feel bad about it. I honestly thought I did everything I could to consider his feelings before moving forward with anything with you."

"You did, David," Kurt murmured softly.

"I guess we both lost the people we thought were our best friends," David spoke, slightly louder.

"David, It's not inconceivable that, someday, Azimio will understand that what he did to you was wrong," Kurt offered quietly.

"Yeah, and maybe Blaine will get that there are feelings other than his own that need to be considered," David countered. "The thing is, every time I think about Azimio, I get this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. It doesn't last long, but it's there. You can't see Blaine changing any more than I can see Azimio changing."

"Doesn't mean it won't happen, David," Kurt remarked. "I told Blaine I want to talk to him. I also told him that he had to lose his attitude or it wasn't going to happen. I'm not going to suffer through an irrational shouting-match with him."

Kurt turned more tightly into David's shoulder and rested his hand on David's chest. David smiled and tipped his head to Kiss Kurt's forehead. Kurt didn't look up, but he smiled at the action, warmed by the touch of David's lips.

"Did you tell your parents about us?" Kurt asked, still smiling, sounding as if speaking from a daydream.

David chuckled slightly. "Yes. They already knew." At this admission, David reached into his jacket and retrieved the T-shirt which Lorraine had brought back for Kurt and tossed it into Kurt's lap.

"What's this?" Kurt said as he picked up the shirt, eyeing it suspiciously.

"My parents, well, my mom really, have this long-standing tradition of bringing me back a T-shirt from any trip they take which doesn't include me," David explained. "My mom brought back one for you as well as one for me this time."

Kurt laughed at the quaintness of the gesture. "It's actually pretty cool," Kurt surmised, visually critiquing the shirt.

"As I was on my way out the door, my parents asked me to ask you if you'd like to join us for dinner," David added. "They just got back from a vacation, so they didn't feel like making something. I don't know where they're going, but you're invited. I think they want to get to know their son's boyfriend a little better."

Kurt smiled, an almost drowsy-looking smile, and rolled his head playfully on David's shoulder. "I don't feel like cooking tonight either. Let me run upstairs and change my clothes. I'll be back in about ten or fifteen." Kurt stood and walked toward the stairway, about to ascend, then turned back toward David. "What should I wear?"

David smiled and shook his head. "Wear whatever you want to wear. Be as appropriate or as inappropriate as you feel you need to be. We won't be going anyplace extravagant, I'm sure. Breadstix or something like that, maybe."

Kurt grinned at David, nodding, before turning around and climbing the stairs. David sat on the couch and closed his eyes, not sure if he'd be able to doze while waiting for Kurt when the door opened and Finn entered.

"Hey, Dave," Finn spoke after seeing David on the couch, "I saw your truck outside."

"Hey, Finn," David greeted in return. "Yeah, Kurt called me and said he was kinda down about things so I thought I'd come over,"

Finn smiled before seating himself on a chair adjacent to the couch. "It was a crazy day, that's for sure," Finn stated, his expression more serious.

"You mean about Blaine?" David began. "It bums me out, Finn. I thought we were all friends, and I hate thinking that this has caused a problem with Kurt and Blaine."

Finn shook his head. "I've gotten to know Blaine fairly well. Yeah, I'm friends with the guy, but he's really, like, weird and emotional about things; and, in some ways, worse than Kurt used to be, but he hides it most of the time. There were some things I never liked about the way he treated Kurt, but as long as Kurt seemed happy, I wasn't gonna question anything. This thing that happened in school today, though, dude, that's all on Blaine. Him and Kurt have been done for weeks, and he seemed cool with being friends. Blaine's just too wrapped-up in being the center of attention and being the guy that is never wrong and the guy that can't lose. I went around with him a while back over how greedy he was being with stuff in the glee club. The thing is, if you know Blaine a little, he seems like the nicest guy; the more you get to know him, though, the more you see how messed-up he can be."

David shook his head. "Just confusing. Kurt didn't want me talking to Blaine, maybe about something Blaine might have said about me? Do you know what that's all about?"

Finn shook his head, answering. "No, I didn't catch the whole outburst. I think most of what was said happened before I arrived."

Kurt returned from the upstairs wearing a solid black button-down shirt worn open over the T-shirt which Lorraine had bought for him, rugged-looking black jeans, and engineer boots; his hair was styled but relaxed-looking. "Oh, hi, Finn, I didn't hear you come in," Kurt voiced upon his arrival.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn answered. "Looks like you're in a better mood." Finn shot a smile and a nod in David's direction.

"Yes, David and I are going to dinner with David's parents, so I don't know what there is around here for your dinner."

"I'll look in the fridge and find something," Finn said, adding, "Have a good time, then, guys."

David stood and Kurt met him halfway between the couch and the stairs; both thanking Finn before walking to the entryway and departing.

Dinner was indeed at Breadstix, and the feeling was casual and relaxed. Lorraine was talkative as ever; but, much to the relief of David and Paul, not awkward. Lorraine was impressed by Kurt's knowledge of fashion and his interest in pursuing the performing arts, but she was not patronizing in the least: she seemed genuinely interested in knowing Kurt, and Kurt was receptive and interested in her as well. For the number of times they and their parents had shared breakfast on weekend mornings, the quick dinner was revelatory in ways none of them could have predicted. Silent across-the-table eye-contact between Paul and David signaled at various times unfounded concern, amusement, surprise, but, above all, ease: if Lorraine was making an effort, it wasn't apparent. She seemed to be settling into this situation with an incredible poise, if not downright elegance.

The four returned to David's house after dinner. Paul and Lorraine walked ahead of David and Kurt as they climbed out of Paul's car.

"It's pretty early," David mentioned to Kurt, looking away, appearing slightly nervous. "It's not even seven o'clock. Do you wanna hang out for a while? Here or we could go back to your place?"

"We can stay here," Kurt answered. "I just want to be home by nine-thirty or ten. I know I don't have to worry about any actual school work tomorrow, but there's no way I'm not going after today's craziness."

David nodded, ushering Kurt into the house. "Do you want to go up to my room or the gameroom?"

Kurt's face grimaced slightly, "Probably the gameroom would be best with your parents around," he said at a hushed volume.

"Yeah, good call," David agreed. "We can hang out, and they won't feel like they need to keep an eye on us. You want something to drink?"

"Just a glass of water or something would be fine," Kurt answered.

"Sure you don't want diet cola?" David smirked a reply.

"Whatever, I just don't want to be up all night," Kurt remarked.

"Okay, you can head down to the gameroom, and I'll be down in a few," David smiled. "Help yourself to the TV," David said more loudly as he walked toward the kitchen.

David busied himself in the kitchen, removing two glasses, filling one with iced tea for himself and the other with diet cherry soda. Lorraine approached him quietly from behind.

"David," Lorraine spoke upon her approach to alert him without startling him.

David turned to see his mother. "Hey, mom."

Lorraine walked closely toward David, smiling, and spoke quietly. "Thank you for bringing Kurt tonight. I'm glad that I had the opportunity to talk with him and get to know him better."

David nodded, twisting the cap onto the bottle of soda, and placing the bottle on the counter. "Well, he wanted to come to dinner when I asked him."

Lorraine continued. "Until tonight, I only knew Kurt first as a faceless name for which your father was called to the school to speak about your behavior; then I knew him as the boy you met on weekend mornings to run with at the park. Now that I've actually spoken to him for a while, I think Kurt and I will get along very well, David. He's delightful."

David smirked, crooked. "Thanks. I guess he meets with your approval then?"

"David, I can see that you are both happy to be with each other. I could see that weeks ago." Lorraine paused for a moment before adding, "And he seems to like the shirt I bought for him."

David smiled, nearly a chuckle, with a nod. "Yes, he does."

Lorraine walked to the other side of the kitchen, and turned to face David. "I'd like to introduce him to my other friends, if you think it wouldn't be too strange for him. Maybe him and Mrs. Hummel?"

David's face puzzled though he retained a smile, awkward. "I can ask him about it," he said, unsure.

Lorraine smiled and nodded, exiting the kitchen.

David descended to the gameroom where Kurt had seated himself on the couch and was surfing channels on the television. "What's this?" Kurt asked politely referring to the glass filled with fizzy red liquid.

"It's diet cherry soda," David answered. "No caffeine. It won't keep you from sleeping."

Kurt smiled enthusiastically as David sat beside him on the couch.

"Finding anything interesting?" David asked referring to the television.

"Not really," Kurt voiced with a skeptical expression.

The two sat next to each other, not speaking, the low-volume sound of the random channels the only sound. David was sitting back in his seat, resting on the couch's back; Kurt sat forward on the edge of the seat as he surfed the channels, finally coming to rest on a music channel and, keeping the volume at a low, background-noise level, he placed the remote control on the coffee table and slid back in his seat next to David.

"Mom was glad to see that you're wearing the shirt she brought back for you," David commented causing Kurt to smile as he sipped his soda.

"How do you _do_ that?" David said to Kurt after a few moments of silence, turning to face Kurt with an inquisitive grin.

Kurt returned an unsure smile, facing David. "Do what?"

"Shift gears effortlessly from being worried about Blaine and seeming all down-to-earth into a complete, uh, _fashion maven_ in front of my mom," David explained, still smirking.

Kurt smiled, a subtle blush. "It's a guilty pleasure. I love frivolity. I won't apologize for it, and I have no trouble accessing that part of me, even if it lies dormant for a while."

"Well, you might regret that," David snickered. "My mom wants you to meet her group of shallow society friends. She wants to include your stepmom too, but I wouldn't want to subject _anyone_ to that without fair warning."

Both Kurt and David broke into laughter. "That sounds like fun, actually," Kurt admitted. "I can do shallow pretty well."

"Maybe this is my mom rationalizing an upside to having a gay son," David joked. "His boyfriend will elevate her standing with her vapid friends."

"Oh, David," Kurt's face soured intentionally. "Your mom has an _incredible_ son, and she knows it. She doesn't need to rationalize a damned thing." Kurt slapped David's shoulder playfully.

"So," David began, "are you going to meet me in the park to run on weekdays when your school stuff is all done?"

Kurt smiled and nodded. "I think I can do that as long as there's no specific reason for me not to, like, maybe, some employment obligation." Kurt's eyes addressed David's with a slightly more serious expression. "I'm going to want to spend as much time with you this summer as I can."

David smiled and lingered on Kurt's face for a few seconds before turning to face the television again.

"Thank you for coming to see me this afternoon," Kurt said quietly, looking at David. "It's like you dropped everything and came to me. Talking with you really helped."

David smiled and looked at Kurt. "Hey, it's part of the job." Kurt giggled as David continued. "I want to make you happy if I can. If you're not happy, I want to help you with that. If I can help you turn that around, hey: job satisfaction."

Kurt laughed again, looking downward, face reddening slightly.

David cast his eyes toward the floor. "New boots?"

Kurt smiled. "Yes. They're for when I'm feeling a more toned-down, rugged look. Do you like them?"

"Mm-hmm. Yeah. They're sexy." David blushed slightly, still uneasy at his admission.

Kurt's face became more serious before he spoke again. "David, when you were talking this afternoon about Azimio, I mentioned that you tried to talk to me back then also. What would you have said if I'd have answered one of your calls?" Not receiving an immediate answer, hanging in silence for a moment, Kurt added, "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No, no, it's okay." David's face became serious also, but he didn't appear uncomfortable. "It would have depended upon which call you answered. If it had been one of the earlier ones, I'd have probably been kinda, like, 'What's up? How are you? I'm fine here.' If it had been one of the last few, I probably would have asked you how you dealt with it for so long. Like, how could you get up in the morning and face everything? How did you do it when things were so fucking hard, when I was making things so bad for you?"

Kurt reached over and placed his hands into David's, leaning his head gently on David's shoulder as the two sat side-by-side. David held both of Kurt's hands in his left hand and reached his right arm around Kurt, resting his right hand on Kurt's shoulder. The two turned their heads slowly and their lips met gently. The kiss was almost chaste, more one of bonding and support than anything else.

Paul was on his way to the gameroom to check on the boys. He witnessed from a distance the two of them together, deciding to turn around and quietly go back up the stairs but not before absorbing the image.

As their kiss parted, David's hand gently rubbed Kurt's shoulder as Kurt slid more closely into David.

"I could sit like this, like, all night," David whispered, "but I should probably get you home."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "Tomorrow is still a school day, and who knows what I'll be walking into."

The two exited the house, and David drove Kurt home, taking several minutes for an extended farewell before Kurt exited David's truck.

Once inside the house, Kurt powered his cell phone to find three text messages and a voicemail.

Blaine: _kurt, i want to talk, but i don't know if i'm ready yet_ 6:08PM

Blaine: _kurt, did you get my message?_ 6:43PM

Blaine: _where are you? why aren't you returning my messages?_ 7:20PM

Kurt shook his head. He felt no guilt at the missed text messages. He accessed the voicemail message to hear a shouting, nearly hysterical-sounding Blaine:

_Kurt, where are you? I've been... trying to reach you for hours! It's after eight o'clock. What are you doing? Where are you? I want to talk to you. Just... like... call me or something._

Kurt rolled his eyes before pecking a text-response to Blaine.

Kurt: _It still doesn't sound like you're ready to talk to me in a civil manner. I'll see you in school tomorrow. We can talk there or somewhere else as long as you keep it conversational. Bye._ 8:43PM

 

* * *

 

David had returned home and was taking his and Kurt's empty glasses to the kitchen when Paul approached him.

"I, uh, came down to the gameroom while you and Kurt were there, but it looked like I'd have been intruding if I said anything, so I just left you alone."

David appeared stunned, speechless, as Paul continued.

"Nothing to worry about. If I'd have seen that six months ago, I would have been stunned, but I'm ready for it now. Besides, you two were sitting next to each other, your hands were all visible and not doing anything questionable, and it looked like you were both enjoying the moment." Paul paused as David smiled and looked downward, blushing. "I told you before, I remember being your age. It was sweet. I think after tonight, even your mom could have handled seeing that."

 

**Tuesday, May 22**

Kurt sat in his homeroom. Blaine was conspicuously absent, but, then Kurt didn't waste time to find out if Blaine would arrive at his locker. Kurt was planning his day, a large part of which would be spent in the choir room helping to organize and store sheet music for the summer, when his phone buzzed with an incoming text message.

David: _Good morning, Kurt. Just checking to see how things are at school. You can text any time or call if you can. Thinking about you._ 7:38AM

Kurt pecked out a response to David immediately.

Kurt: _Good morning, David. Things are quiet. I'll be spending a good part of the day doing busy-work in the choir room. I'll probably give a call sometime then. Thinking of you too._ 7:39AM

Halfway through his second-period class, Kurt excused himself to the choir room. He had seen Blaine earlier in the hallway, but their eyes contacted only through sideways glances. The feeling was odd but not unexpected. Kurt was busy with sorting through a disorganized stack of sheet music when the bell rang signalling the end of the period. Kurt had already informed his third-period instructor that he'd be in the choir room for the duration of the day. Chris Strando and Brandon were in the hallway passing the choir room; Chris saw Kurt shuffling through the stack of paper and took the opportunity to approach with him. He and Brandon entered the choir room.

"Hey, Kurt," Chris spoke tentatively as if he was not welcome in the space; Brandon, just as tentatively nodded a greeting.

Kurt smiled in response. "Hi, Chris; hi, Brandon."

Chris approached more closely. "Everything been okay today, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded in his reply. "Yes, and I don't foresee a problem, at least not on school grounds. Besides, I don't think Blaine is violent that way."

Chris and Brandon nodded with Chris adding, "Well, if something _is_ wrong, you have my number, right?"

Kurt nodded again. "Yes, I have your number. Thank you, Chris." Kurt paused as the two boys were beginning to exit the choir room back into the hallway, then spoke again. "I talked to David. He knows about all of this. I'll probably be talking to him shortly, actually."

"Tell him we said 'hi'," Chris hollered through a smile as he and Brandon became part of the crowded between-classes corridor.

As the noise in the corridor died, Kurt pulled out his phone and dialed David. He answered almost immediately.

"Hi, Kurt," David's voice was low and smooth-sounding.

Kurt chuckled his reply. "Hello, David."

"I take it from your slight giggle there that things are okay today?" David replied, voice brighter.

"That was _not_ a giggle," Kurt replied trying to sound offended but betraying a true giggle instead, "but everything _is_ fine here."

"Well, whatever it was, you sound happy, and that sounds great to me," David replied.

"I just saw Chris and Brandon," Kurt informed. "They asked me to say 'hi' to you for them."

"We should all get together sometime soon, you included, and do something," David suggested.

"I agree," Kurt seconded. "Do you want me to greet them in return for you?"

"Nah, I'll just text them a 'hello' after I get off the phone with you," David answered. "Hey, how are things with Blaine today?"

"Quiet," a single-word answer. "I passed him in the hall earlier. No words. Barely any eye-contact."

"Is that good or bad?" David asked.

"Well, he's not making a _scene_. If he did, it wouldn't play well for him." Kurt paused before adding, "After his infantile display yesterday, everyone has been siding with me."

"Do you think he's taking any heat for it?" David asked.

"I don't know," Kurt replied. "I have heard a few jokes, but I'm trying to remain above the fray, and I don't know what's getting back to Blaine. I just want this to be done. You know, there were three text messages and a voicemail on my phone last night after you brought me home."

"From Blaine?"

"Yes." Kurt sounded fatigued of the entire drama. "He said he wanted to talk, but his hysterical tone on the voicemail leads me to believe otherwise."

"Geeze," David nearly sighed. "Well, I'm here twenty-four-seven if you want to talk or you need anything else, that goes without saying."

Kurt smiled. "I know. You didn't need to tell me that, but it's good to hear it just the same. I'm going to get back to what I'm working on, though. Talk to you later this afternoon."

"Okay," David spoke, sounding content. "Thanks for calling."

"You're welcome. I wanted to hear your voice anyway. Goodbye, David."

"Goodbye, Kurt," David spoke through a chuckle.

Kurt was visiting his locker for the last time of the day when Blaine approached him and calmly spoke. "I'm ready to talk to you."

Kurt turned to face Blaine. He appeared exhausted and sweaty, hair in minor disarray, clothes wrinkled. "I'll be around at home."

"Okay," Blaine said in response. "Okay if I stop by after I leave here?"

"Yes, that'll be fine," Kurt replied, soft-spoken but indifferent. "Let me know when you're on your way over."

Kurt was reclining on the family room couch. The house was quiet. Finn had returned home, and Kurt informed him of Blaine's likely visit. After Kurt assured him that there was no need for alarm, Finn retreated upstairs to his bedroom. Kurt's phone buzzed with a text alert.

Blaine: _i'll be there in ten_ 3:13PM

Kurt punched a quick reply.

Kurt: _I'm here._ 3:14.

The doorbell rang and Kurt answered the door ushering Blaine into the living room.

"Can we go up to your bedroom?" Blaine asked quietly but seeming somewhat uneasy.

Kurt shook his head. "I think we can talk down here in the family room just fine. Finn's upstairs, but the house is otherwise empty."

Blaine nodded and sat in the chair which angled the position of the couch where Kurt seated himself.

Blaine drew a long breath and spoke. "Everyone at school wants us to be friends."

"Blaine, I don't think anyone really cares much if we're friends or not," Kurt replied. "They don't like the way you acted yesterday."

Blaine cast his eyes downward, nodding. "Kurt, I've decided to forgive you for all of this."

Kurt's eyes widened, betraying bafflement. "Um," Kurt broke into an involuntary laugh. "I didn't do anything _wrong_. You acted like a jealous idiot. I didn't apologize to you for your infantile behavior, and I'm certainly not _going_ to apologize to you."

Blaine's face puzzled, slight anger. "After all I did for you? I helped you last year when you were having problems. I switched schools for you. You don't think you owe me something?"

Kurt inhaled loudly and rolled his eyes, _I'm dealing with an insane person_ , he seemed to be thinking.

"Blaine, I would hope that the advice and help you gave to me would have been the same for anyone in my situation at the time. I don't think I owe you anything. Switching schools ultimately benefited you. You're not only part of a winning showchoir as opposed to the one that sang at retirement homes, but you're going to be the leader of that showchoir next year. At Dalton, you'd have been scrapping with Sebastian for the lead parts and fading into the sea of identical navy-and-red blazers, being defeated by McKinley yet again."

Blaine's breathing became louder as he shot Kurt an expression of disbelief. The two were silent for a moment before Kurt continued.

"Blaine, do you know what this whole thing is _really_ about? It's about a guy who has meticulously constructed himself to be unfailingly desirable, charming, and talented. Media standards and stereotypes have dictated his every move, and he bought into his own hype. He doesn't have an out-of-place hair on his head, he worked hard to have a great voice and smooth dance moves, and he masks his air of superiority so well that he almost comes off as human. But he's _not_. He's a gay Frankenstein's monster made of bits and pieces of the cream that rises to the top of every facet of what society finds acceptable in a young gay man. But, see, because he's worked so hard, he has trouble with indifference. When his Gap-crush didn't want him, he settled for the young man who adored him from afar. What he didn't count on was that young man ever seeing through the disguise to the self-centered, selfish person underneath. He began to regard that young man as an accessory, a property. After all of his hard work at constructing himself as the ultimate available gay man, he's confused by indifference. Then the veneer cracked and the ugly behavior eclipsed the fragile facade."

Blaine's mouth gaped, and he trembled subtly.

Kurt expanded further. "Now we've arrived at a point where we've been done for two months, more really. Did you actually expect me to become some gay spinster, pining for you? I think you could have handled it if you began dating again before I did, but, no, I was first, and that's just unacceptable to you. It was okay for David and me as long as we knew our subordinate place under your _perfection_ of _gayness_ ; but forbid that we should ever have minds of our own without checking with you first. And the fact that it happened publicly, in front of everyone at school, was just too much of a threat to your precious ego to deal with."

Blaine rose to his feet, eyes unfocused-but-angry. "Kurt, is this _really_ what you think about me?"

"Considering the evidence before me, _yes_ , Blaine." Kurt nodded as he stood as well, slightly defensive but unshaken.

"Kurt, I _love_ you," Blaine pronounced, raising his voice.

Kurt's eyes widened and rolled once again, he spoke through a tired-sounding laugh, dismissive and almost mocking. "Blaine, you just _think_ that you love me. You don't _really_ love me."

Blaine's expression betrayed outright rage as Kurt's words furthered. "You don't _love_ me. You love _you_ , and you can't conceive of somebody else loving _you_ less than you love _yourself_."

"Ugh!" Blaine suppressed an angry howl. "Don't I even get a goodbye kiss?" Blaine advanced upon Kurt, enraged.

Kurt's expression was defiant, his expression pointed, almost attitudinal. "What are you going to do? Force yourself on me like you tried to do in the back of my car that night at Scandals? You were drunk that night. What's your excuse now? Drunk on your _self-delusion_ this time?"

At the sound of raised voices, Finn appeared at the foot of the stairs just in time to watch Blaine reach his hands up, grasping the sides of Kurt's head, and Kurt's knee placing a solid kick to Blaine's crotch. Blaine's body doubled and fell to the floor, knocking the entertainment center slightly askew as he let out a pained cry. Kurt stood watching him writhe for a moment before reaching downward and scooping Blaine up from beneath his shoulders, dragging him for a moment. Blaine rose assisted, partially of his own power, as Kurt forcibly moved him toward the front door.

"Oh, come on, you pussy," Kurt hissed at Blaine who was slightly regaining strength in his legs. Kurt opened the front door and shoved. He watched Blaine stumble from the walkway and fall into the lawn before slamming and bolting the door.

Finn stood amazed watching from the landing of the stairway, a dazed grin on his face. "That was awesome, Kurt. He won't be walking right anytime soon. Are you okay?"

Kurt inhaled and looked up at Finn with a slight, smug grin on his face. "Yes, I'm okay."

 

* * *

 

David's phone sounded an incoming call. He was expecting to hear from Kurt, but the call came instead from Finn.

"Hey, Hudson," David answered. "What's going on?"

"Dude, I just watched Kurt kick Blaine in the nuts and throw him out of the house."

David was stunned silent for a moment before responding, "No!"

"Yeah, dude, I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it for myself," Finn elaborated. "I knew that Blaine was supposed to come over and talk, but, like, I was up in my room, and I started hearing this yelling. I ran downstairs to see Blaine, like, going in like he was gonna attack Kurt, and Kurt just, like stood there and kneed him full-on, solid, right in the nuts. Blaine just, like, crumbled and Kurt dragged him to the door and threw him out on his ass."

David couldn't help but laugh. "Aw, man. I wish I could have seen it."

Finn laughed as well. "I'm glad I saw it so when people ask why Blaine is hobbling around for the next week, I'll be there to verify what happened."

"Is Kurt okay?" David asked, concern showing through the laughter.

"Yeah, Kurt's fine," Finn verified, "He was grinnin' like a boss after he slammed the door."

"Finn, dude, I would love to give you a big fucking hug right now for telling me this, and I wanna kiss the hell outta your brother," David laughed. "Don't get me wrong, I thought Blaine was okay, like, I considered him a friend, until all the shit hit the fan yesterday. Now, I'm like, I don't know what to think, except that it's good to know that Kurt isn't gonna be pushed around by him."

Finn laughed. "Well, I just had to call and tell you because, knowing Kurt, he's going to be all modest and spare you all the gory details."

"You're probably right about that," David agreed. "Should I give Kurt a call?"

"Definitely," Finn advised. "And you can tell him that I called too. He'll probably figure out that I told you what happened so he won't feel like he needs to tell you anything."

"Hey, Finn," David sounded awed, "thanks, man."

"Any time, Karofsky," Finn responded. "Later, guy."

"Bye, Finn."

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 11,000

**Chapter 37**

 

**Tuesday, May 22, continued**

The doorbell rang. Kurt was apprehensive, fearing that Blaine was hovering somewhere outside like a wounded stalker. A glance through the peephole revealed that it was David who was outside. Kurt opened the door.

"Hi, David," Kurt's face was surprised but betraying a hinted smile, looking around slightly nervous. "Pleasant surprise. What brings you here?".

David smirked , addressing Kurt's eyes. "I heard my boyfriend is a bad-ass."

Kurt smiled hugely and blushed, speaking quietly. "I guess you've talked to Finn."

"No, actually, I ran into Blaine on the way here," David said, sarcastic grin in place, "and he sounded like Alvin the chipmunk."

Kurt began laughing as he reached his hand to his face, covering his mouth.

"No, Finn called me," David explained. "He told me to call you, but I thought I'd just drive over here. I wanted to see you anyway, even more after I heard what went down."

"Come on inside, David," Kurt spoke softly and warmly as he opened the door wider, permitting David's entry. He closed the door behind David, and the two stood in the entryway facing each other.

David smiled, facing downward, shaking his head slowly, raising his eyes to meet Kurt's. He leaned in close to Kurt, and Kurt raised his face to meet David's; their lips met multiple times quickly between smiles and quiet content murmurs from each of them. David's hands reached downward to take Kurt's hands into his own.

The two stood for a short while addressing the other's eyes: David grinning smugly and ever-wider, Kurt smiling almost innocently.

"When Finn told me what happened," David began, "I... uh... hmmm." His speech dropped off as his eyes fell toward the floor though the smile remained fixed on his face.

" _What_ , David?" Kurt asked with a large, curious smile and penetrating eyes.

David looked up to meet Kurt's eyes. "Uh," David paused for a moment, "I got kinda _turned-on_." David nodded, still grinning.

Kurt exhaled and looked toward the floor for a moment before moving, his hands still in David's, toward the family room couch. David instinctively seated himself into a corner and Kurt sat beside him, very close, almost on David's lap.

"So, Finn says you kicked Blaine in a, um, _sensitive_ area," David asked.

"Um, yes," Kurt responded, "point-blank range."

"Ew," David's face grimaced in mock-pain. "I've seen you kick. Blaine would have to be an idiot to risk that. Finn said he was coming after you or something."

Kurt rolled his eyes, indifferently. "I think he was trying to _kiss_ me."

David's face puzzled for a moment before affecting seriousness. "I guess I better watch what I try on you then."

Kurt smiled and spoke in a low pitch, a cross between a growl and a purr: " _You_ could get away with just about _anything_ , David."

"Mmmmm," David hummed and exhaled, his face pulling into a wide smile, and looked away for a moment as Kurt leaned more closely, falling into David's arms. David's arms responded softly closing around Kurt's torso. David turned his head forward, still facing downward. His cheek was close to Kurt's, and he could feel the warmth coming from Kurt, the occasional breath.

"This feels really good," David spoke quietly.

"Mmm," Kurt replied, "yes it does."

David turned his face, kissing Kurt's cheek. "I don't know how long I should hang out, though," David began. "You said your dad and stepmom are coming in tonight, Right? And my parents will be expecting me to be around for dinner later."

"You want to have dinner with us tonight?" Kurt offered. "I don't know what we're doing exactly, but, your parents would be welcome too."

"Are you sure, Kurt?" David responded, hesitant "This is really short notice, and, besides, my parents might have something planned. Shouldn't you check with your parents first anyway?"

"Okay, you're right," Kurt nodded while speaking, turning his head to face David. "I'll call my parents, hear what they say, and whine until I get my way if needed; afterwhich, you'll call your parents and we'll go from there."

David closes his eyes, shook his head, and quietly chuckled to himself. " _What have I gotten myself into?_ " David voiced quietly as Kurt knocked his forehead playfully into David's chin in response.

Kurt produced his cell phone and searched his contacts list while still speaking with David. "They might be off of the plane already. The flight was due in at four-thirty. Finn is probably already at the airport."

Kurt pulled away from David, sitting upright as he placed his call. David could hear the sound of the phone ringing on the other end as well as a garbled greeting when he assumed Burt picked up the call. "Hello, Dad. I was wondering, I don't know what you and Carole have planned for dinner, but would it be okay if David and his parents join us tonight?"

An unintelligible response was followed by Kurt quietly turning to David, "He's checking with Carole." A crackling voice responded after a few seconds and Kurt spoke into his phone again.

"Great. That's awesome. I'll call you right back when I know if they'll make it definitely or not. Where are you right now?" The distant, tinny noise spoke back and Kurt responded. "Okay, Dad. You will probably be here soon then?" More of Burt's tiny garbled response followed. "Well, I kinda have something to tell you tonight." It sounded like a tinny, gruff laugh which followed. "Oh, yeah? Well, you'll find out for sure when you get in. Love you, Dad. Goodbye."

David could hear Burt's final syllables returning a 'goodbye' before Kurt ended the call and turned to David.

"I think he knows," Kurt, nodding with a suspicious expression, said to David.

"What?" David asked, no surprise on his face, "About us?"

Kurt silently nodded a response.

"I guess everyone knew before we did," David smirked, shaking his head.

"Your turn," Kurt spoke. "Call your parents and see if they can make it. I told Dad I'd get back to him with a definite headcount."

David took his phone from his shirt pocket and dialed his mother. She answered directly. "Hey, Mom," David spoke into his phone. "I'm over at Kurt's, and he says that you and Dad and I are invited over for dinner. Since I didn't know what you had planned... "

David was cut-off, and Kurt could hear Lorraine's voice speaking quickly, words Kurt could not discern, though her tone sounded receptive. David reacted in a slow smile. "Okay, Mom," David spoke again as Lorraine's reply slowed. "I'll tell Kurt, and I'll be back home in a few. Hang on for a sec, okay?"

David turned to Kurt and asked, "What time should we be here?"

Kurt answered, "Six-thirty or seven o'clock."

David spoke again into the phone. "Six-thirty or seven, Mom." More muffled sounds from the phone. "Be home soon, Mom. Goodbye."

David ended the call, slid his phone back into his pocket, and turned to Kurt. "It's a go. Mom was all excited. I'm going to go back home as I'm sure you have some stuff to do before we arrive again. I'll be back with my parents probably around seven."

Instead of standing, Kurt shifted and drew himself closer into David, his back leaning against David's chest. David reacted with a smile as he slid his arms around Kurt, pulling him more snugly against him; his words contradicted his actions: "I really do need to get moving, Kurt."

"Mmmm," Kurt hummed, indifferent. "Not at this very moment you don't. We can enjoy this for a few more minutes before you get on the road and I call my dad back."

David smiled and agreed wordlessly by softly kissing the back of Kurt's neck.

 

* * *

 

Just before seven o'clock, Paul, Lorraine, and David arrived at the Hummels' for dinner. Lorraine was carrying three bottles of wine, and David was holding two boxes from a local bakery. When Kurt greeted the Karofsky family at the door, he eyed the boxes with suspicion and eager curiosity. David smiled and answered Kurt's silent query. "My parents thought we should bring dessert."

Kurt grinned and nodded assent, "Very thoughtful of you," he said while showing Paul and Lorraine to the dining room where Burt and Carole were waiting; he then escorted David into the kitchen where the boxes were placed side-by-side on the countertop next to the other food.

"Can I peek?" Kurt asked David quietly, nodding at the boxes.

"Sure, why don't you just open them up," David answered. "They're going to get eaten tonight anyway, I'm sure. By the way, what's for dinner?" David was referring to two large, covered foil pans, also on the counter, and two large covered plastic bowls.

Kurt grinned at David as he broke the adhesive seal on one of the boxes. "Hungry? There's a pan of lasagna and a pan of rigatoni and the huge family-size salads. We got it from that Italian place that does catering." Kurt diverted his attention to the contents of the boxes: each held a two-layer cake. "Ooh. What are these?"

David smiled, answering Kurt's question. "One is a white cake with buttercream and raspberry filling; the other is German chocolate with coconut-pecan frosting. I picked them out, actually. They're from that bakery near the mall, and, yeah, their stuff is really good. And, yes, I'm very hungry."

"Well, I am not going to know what I'll want for dessert, David," Kurt opined. "I love German chocolate, but the white cake sounds incredible."

"I think we'll just need to get a piece of each and share," David spoke quietly while closing the distance on Kurt, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I want to kiss you."

Kurt smiled and looked downward. "You can do that, but make it quick. Hungry people will be in here looking for food any time now."

David leaned in for a quick kiss before pulling away. "Did you tell your dad and stepmom about us yet?" David asked.

Kurt's face pulled into a grin slowly. "Yes. I hope you don't mind having dinner in the dining room with the parents while Finn, Sam, and Mercedes get to eat in front of the TV downstairs."

David smirked and shook his head. "Hey, yeah, it's part of the deal. You're good with parents, better than me; but I'll put up with it and smile, no problem."

"It's just for dinner," Kurt added, "then we can join the others after."

"What brings Mercedes here?" David asked, curious.

"She was with Sam earlier today and they both ended up here," Kurt answered. "When Sam heard that guests were coming, he asked if it would be okay if Mercedes stayed for dinner. Truth told, I was hoping she would anyway. I wanted her to see how great you and I are together."

David smiled again and would have closed their distance for a second kiss when Burt came into the kitchen and spoke loudly enough to both startle David and cause Kurt to roll his eyes. "Hey, kids," Burt's voice boomed, "Kurt, do you know where the corkscrew is?"

Kurt laughed and shook his head before answering: the question was obviously an excuse to enter the kitchen. "Dad, I'm sure that you and Carole have used the corkscrew many more times than I have and more recently. Actually, last I checked, it was in the dining room, not the kitchen."

"Hi Mr. Hummel," David spoke, almost nervously. "Thank you for having us over for dinner."

"I'll go to the dining room and find the corkscrew, Dad," Kurt said, excusing himself from the kitchen.

Burt closed the distance between David and himself, eyes intense on David. "I want you to know that I'm fine with you and Kurt." David responded silently by nodding nervously, never breaking eye-contact with Burt as Burt continued. "I've seen you and Kurt together enough to know that you both want this. It's really obvious that you two make each other happy." Burt's expression softened as David nearly looked away, uncomfortable, as Burt spoke still more. "Hey, lighten-up a little, Dave. We like you. I'm seeing sides of Kurt that I never saw before, and it's all good." David's eyes rose back to Burt's face to see that he was smiling subtly. Burt offered his hand, and David took it, shaking it firmly as Burt roughly patted David's shoulder.

David finally succumbed to a state of ease. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel. I know I didn't make it easy."

"It's okay," Burt answered, "That's in the past, and we know you now."

Finally, David, nodding, broke into a smile.

"Okay, Dad, the corkscrew has been found and the wine has been uncorked," Kurt's voice interrupted the relative quiet of the kitchen as he returned from the dining room. "How about David and I get some serving plates and get some of this... "

"Get yourself in the dining room, kiddo," Burt interjected. "You too, Dave. Kurt's stepmom and I will take care of getting the food out there. They're already eating downstairs, so it's just us at this point. Carole?"

"I'm right here, Burt," Carole spoke from behind, startling Burt, having arrived quietly while he was talking.

Kurt's eyes contacted David's and David followed Kurt toward the dining room single-file. Kurt leaned back and spoke, quietly-but-audibly, "You look nice tonight, David."

David smirked, humble but dismissive: "I look like I always do."

"That's what I meant," Kurt replied, nearly a purr, before his voice became more serious, "Um, no talk about the Blaine-thing over dinner, okay?"

"No problem," David replied, placing his hand nervously onto Kurt's back as he followed him into the threshold before adding in a low whisper, his lips just outside Kurt's ear, " _tiger_." Kurt closed his eyes, fighting back a giggle, as the two entered the dining room.

Paul and Lorraine were seated side-by-side on one side of the table; David seated himself opposite from Paul, and Kurt remained standing, still seeming unsure if he should fall into the role of host. Paul appeared pleasant and relaxed as he greeted them; Lorraine wore a rehearsed expression of approval. Kurt, still seeming at a loss, hovered over the seat across the table from Lorraine, spun his head toward the kitchen, and nervously placed his hand on David's shoulder. Burt and Carole emerged from the kitchen carrying serving plates filled with food.

"Dad, Carole, do you need any help with that?" Kurt offered.

"Oh, sit down already, Kurt," Carole scolded in a good-natured tone.

"Listen to your stepmom, Kurt," Burt chimed, "Have a seat next to Dave, and get comfortable."

Kurt complied with his father's request, pulling out the chair next to David and seating himself. Burt and Carole placed a bowl of salad, a bowl of rigatoni, and a serving plate filled with lasagna on the table before seating themselves at opposite sides: Burt at the side where Paul and David faced each other, and Carole at the side where Kurt sat opposite Lorraine.

Lorraine began almost immediately, telling Carole how impressed she was with Kurt's knowledge of fashion. Carole mirrored her comments, nearly gushing about how indispensible his guidance was as she assumed the role of a congressman's wife. Kurt took the compliments graciously and joined their conversation.

For Burt's part, he asked David about his post-high-school plans. David answered politely and became surprisingly talkative as Paul entered into the conversation as well. Kurt kept an open ear to their conversation, commenting occasionally, specifically at how he found David's focus to be so impressive. Burt found himself impressed with David's college plans as well. Burt asked David if he planned to pursue college football, and David spoke to the contrary saying that he would enjoy playing the games informally, possibly joining a football or hockey league while firmly committing that he didn't want the pressures of the formal collegiate sport system to present a conflict with his studies.

Time passed quickly, and the plates were exhausted long before the conversations lost momentum. Lorraine, Carole, and Kurt continued a spirited conversation while Burt, Paul, and David watched, largely quiet, with some good-natured amusement. Burt stood, collecting some empty plates while Paul refilled the parents' wine glasses and David stood, excusing himself to the basement to greet the others.

David descended the stairs to the basement to find Mercedes, Sam, and Finn facing the television, all three engrossed in a video game. Sam was watching intently while seated next to Mercedes on the couch, but Mercedes and Finn, who was seated in a chair next to the couch, were working their controllers with great concentration. Then an onscreen explosion signaled an end of a match, and Finn moaned defeat as Mercedes giggled, snugging closer to Sam. David spoke loudly enough to be heard but careful not to startle anyone.

"Hi, everyone."

The three turned their concentration from the screen and greeted David as David continued, "There's cake upstairs for dessert if anyone's interested."

Finn's eyes piqued immediate interest as Mercedes and Sam stood and repositioned themselves to make space for David on the couch. David seated himself next to Mercedes and asked, nodding in the direction of the screen, "What are you playing?"

"It's one of those Mortal Kombat-type games," Sam began, "and Mercedes just mopped up the screen, first with me, then Finn."

"You said there was cake?" Finn asked, still wide-eyed.

David laughed, "Yes, there's cake upstairs."

Finn stood and began gathering empty plates from the folding table which he, Mercedes, and Sam had used for their dinner. "I'm gonna take this stuff upstairs. I can bring down dessert for anyone who wants it."

"Uh, there's two different kinds of cake," David informed them. "There's a German chocolate cake and a white cake with raspberry filling."

Finn's face blanched as if he was thinking, _how am I supposed to decide?_

"Grab me a piece of that one with the raspberry filling," Mercedes voiced in Finn's direction. " _Please_ ," she added, deeming her first statement too demanding.

Sam stood. "Hey, Finn, I'll go upstairs and help you carry stuff."

"You want cake, Dave?" Finn asked.

"No, I'll get some later," He replied. "Gonna let dinner settle a bit." David paused for a moment while Finn and Sam left for the upstairs and spoke quietly, "Besides, I wanted to wait for Kurt."

Mercedes smiled into a laugh before affecting an attitude. "That's cute 'n' all, but you'd best be good to my boy Kurt."

David turned his head, giving Mercedes a pensive glance, speaking with quiet conviction. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm trying to be the best person I can be to everyone, especially Kurt. He means so much to me."

Mercedes' expression softened. "I know you mean a lot to him too. Sorry if that sounded like a threat."

David shrugged. "It's okay. I understand that I earned that."

Mercedes shook her head gently. "I used to hate you."

"I know, and I gave you good reason to, and there's no way I could ever make up for all of that," David responded.

Mercedes reached for David's hand and held it. "You don't need to make anything up to me. Just be good to my Kurt."

The two exchanged quiet smiles as David tipped his head toward the TV screen, "Is it my turn to have my ass kicked in this game by you?"

Mercedes laughed as David reached for the unused controller.

By the time Finn and Sam returned, Mercedes was seconds away from soundly defeating David, delivering a final virtual blow as the screen lit blazed with firey colors.

"Awww!" David's protest of defeat was tempered with a smile and a laugh as Mercedes smiled to herself, nudging David's arm with her shoulder. "You're really good at that," David congratulated Mercedes on her win.

"Yeah, I can hold my own," she answered as Sam handed her a paper plate holding a piece of cake and a fork.

David stood and stepped from the couch. "Good game. I'm gonna go back upstairs and see if I can find Kurt."

Once upstairs, David peered around the corner of the kitchen threshold into the dining room to see Paul and Burt talking to each other on one side of the table while Kurt, Carole, and Lorraine conversed loudly at the other side. While standing in the doorway, David caught Kurt's attention, unnoticed by the others; David signalled that he was going back downstairs.

David collected a slice of each of the cakes onto a paper plate as well as two forks before descending the stairs. He placed the plate onto the table and made a move to go back up the stairs when Kurt appeared at the landing, approached David closely, backing him toward a wall in a dark corner of the basement room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kurt spoke quietly at David.

"I was just on my way upstairs to find you," David smiled sheepishly, point-blank range.

"I read your smoke signal," Kurt answered, looking sharply at David with his eyes. "You were my ticket out of there. Parents are on bottle number two."

David nodded, still smiling. "Looks like I'm designated driver tonight. Parents need to let loose every once in a while."

Kurt's eyes stayed focused on David's as he whispered, almost accusing. "Did you really get turned on when you heard about me and Blaine earlier today?"

David's smile spread wider. " _Absolutely_ ," David voiced slowly in a tone that was between a groan and a whisper. "When Finn told me, I felt it go right to my... uh... "

_"What?"_ Kurt hissed with a grin, almost wickedly.

"Um, the same place Blaine felt it, only a totally different sensation, I'd imagine."

Kurt reached downward, taking David's hands into his.

David nodded, appearing almost conceited as he spoke, a half-whisper. "Kurt, I am completely ready to explore some, um, _things_ with you." Kurt's eyes brightened, smiling at David's words as David furthered. "Uh, but I want it to be when we can take our time and enjoy it, and, like, without the pressure of our parents being in the next room."

Kurt pulled his hand up, gently putting his fingers to David's lips as if to silence him. "No problem. I agree completely. We're on the same page here." Kurt was silent before he whispered again. "But I do expect a steamy make-out session sometime tonight, regardless of how brief it needs to be."

David smirked. "Deal."

Kurt pulled David into a quick kiss which became longer once their lips tasted the others'. Mercedes witnessed some of the exchange from her vantage point but could see very little as that corner of the room was quite dark, being furthest from the light-source of the television screen.

As David and Kurt pulled apart, they walked toward the gathering, unaware that they'd been seen by anyone. Sam was sitting on an armrest of the couch, immersed in a game with Finn who was seated again on the adjacent chair. Kurt seated himself on the couch next to Mercedes with David lagging slightly as he stopped at the table to retrieve the cake he'd brought for himself and Kurt earlier. David seated himself next to Kurt and hovered the paper plate in the airspace in front of Kurt.

"Ooh! Cake!" Kurt accepted a fork from the plate, and David did the same as they enthusiastically began sharing the dessert.

"You two should tone that down," Mercedes spoke with a smirk and an eyeroll, "You're all just too cute right now."

Finn laughed, trying to act oblivious; Sam spoke, "You should see them eating breakfast sometime."

Mercedes' eyes bulged. "Oh no! _Breakfast?_ TMI!"

Kurt and David glanced in her direction, surprised eyes, forks in mouths, unable to defend themselves with occupied mouths.

"It's not like it sounds," Finn interjected. "When we meet at the park on weekend mornings, we all have breakfast together, and they like to share."

"Ignore her," Kurt spoke to David, "Just enjoy the cake." David kept his mouth shut, narrowed his eyes, and nodded.

"The cake is incredible, David," Kurt spoke stickily between forkfuls. "You have excellent taste."

"You brought the cake?" Mercedes directed at David.

"Mm-hmm," David nodded, mouthful of German chocolate cake.

"Well, the cake was really good," Mercedes concurred with Kurt.

"Um," David changed the subject as the paper plate became clear of cake, "Kurt tells me you're going out to the west coast."

Mercedes smiled, "Yes, I was offered a record contract on a label in LA."

David smiled at Mercedes in return. "Well, congratulations. That's great."

"Thank you, Dave," Mercedes replied as David reached forward, placing the empty paper plate and forks on the coffee table.

Finn and Sam seemed increasingly oblivious to all but the video game as Mercedes leaned closely toward Kurt. "You were right," She whispered, almost inaudibly, meant for only Kurt's ear.

"Right about what?" Kurt backed away, intentionally forcing Mercedes' words to become more public. This caught David's attention, and he leaned forward, interested in the conversation.

Mercedes looked at both of them, hesitating a moment before saying, "You two _are_ great together, really."

Kurt smiled with an air of smugness while David's expression, though smiling, betrayed some confusion.

"You two are great in a way I never considered, I guess," Mercedes spoke clearly to both Kurt and David.

David's eyes darted slightly, finally coming to rest at Mercedes' face. "Thank you, Mercedes. That means a lot coming from one of Kurt's best friends."

Mercedes smiled and said, "You two are coming to my graduation-and-going-away party together, right?"

David laughed to himself as Kurt voiced clearly, "We wouldn't miss it, right, David."

David nodded and looked at the both of them. "Put it that way, I can't refuse, can I?"

A loud explosion sound coming from the television signalled the end of another game and Sam rolled his eyes, defeated by Finn. Kurt and David stood from the couch. "I'm going to collect up some of these plates and silverware and run them upstairs," Kurt said.

"I'll go with you, Kurt," David added.

"Wait a second," Mercedes demanded as she produced her phone and poked at it. "Sam, can you snap a picture of the three of us before they go upstairs?"

Mercedes handed her phone to Sam. "Sure," he replied.

Mercedes stood between Kurt and David, an arm around each. David bent at his knees, lowering himself more closely to Mercede's level, the three smiled, and Sam snapped the camera function. He briefly inspected the image before handing the phone back to Mercedes; Mercedes,Kurt, and David considered the image collectively. "Awesome," Mercedes said, and all three of them smiled agreement.

"Send that to my phone, okay?" Kurt asked, and Mercedes did so immediately.

Kurt collected the remaining empty plates, paper plates, and utensils from the coffee table and the folding table, and he and David ascended the stairs. Arriving in the kitchen, Kurt set the plates and silverware quietly on the counter next to the sink. He turned to David and placed his extended index finger to his lips, a signal to be quiet. The two stood for a moment and Kurt whispered, "I hear music."

David nodded silent agreement: He could hear the music and the voices of the adults from a few rooms away. Kurt craned his head into the dining room which was empty. Two spent wine bottles occupied the vacant dining room table. He tiptoed further toward the living room, peering into the threshold, and turned quickly back, returning to David at the entry to the kitchen. "They're _dancing_ ," he whispered emphatically to David.

David appeared dumbfounded. "Our _parents_?"

Kurt silently giggled. "Your parents, my dad, and my stepmom. They're all dancing. I think it's the _Footloose_ soundtrack from the eighties."

David held back a laugh, shaking his head. "I can't look. That's just too weird."

"Well, then," Kurt whispered, talking David's hand, "follow me, and be quiet."

David grinned, intrigued, as Kurt led him up the stairs to his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind them.

"I don't think you have much to worry about where our parents are concerned," David began, "If they got into that third bottle of wine and they're dancing, I'm sure they're not thinking about much else."

"I agree," Kurt spoke quietly, "but someone will eventually come looking for us." Kurt approached David closely, backing him toward the bed, touching him lightly on the chest with his fingertips, coaxing him backward, until he fell softly onto the mattress. Kurt climbed onto the bed, facing David, stradling his body, Kurt's thighs on either side of David's torso. Kurt leaned toward David's face, very close, and whispered, "In the meantime, I have you _exactly_ where I want you."

David snickered, reaching his arms upward, around Kurt's chest, hands coming to rest on his back. David's light touch suggested a movement toward him, Kurt descended, and their lips touched lightly, almost brushing against each other's. David's lips parted willing Kurt's to follow suit; their tongues met in the space between, softly. David pulled closer, the gaps between their mouths disappeared and the kiss deepened. David's actions were determined but gentle. They held the kiss for a time, naturally pulling away eventually. Kurt looked downward at David. David's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, a trace of a smile on his lips. As he opened his eyes, he saw Kurt above him, appearing somewhat awed. David's hips reflexed upward into Kurt. The action drew stunned expressions from both of them.

"You are really good at that, David," Kurt purred.

David shook his head. "I'm making this up as I go along. I've never been with anyone like this."

"Could have fooled me." Kurt sat upward and reached down, unbuttoning David's shirt, sinking his hands between the top-shirt and the t-shirt beneath.

"What are you doing?" David asked, a quiver in his voice.

"Calm down, David," Kurt said confidently, "I just want to get to those shoulders."

Kurt worked his hands upward beneath David's shirt and found their way to his solid shoulder muscles. He slowly dug his fingers into them as deeply as he could. David emitted a gasp, almost a whine as his hips bucked upward once again. Kurt let out a gratified chuckle as he pulled himself downward into another kiss with David. David's hips were in subtle motion, a slow, involuntary rhythm against Kurt's body. Their lips parted, and Kurt sat upright again, letting his hands run over David's chest toward his sides. David gasped again, this time yielding a more audible sound, nearly a yelp.

"Are you okay?" Kurt spoke quietly, high-pitched, through a smile as his hand ceased motion.

David laughed. "Yeah... I've just... never been touched like that before, at least not by someone besides myself."

"Maybe I should stop," Kurt whispered, still grinning, addressing David's eyes directly, "I don't want to get us into something we can't finish, um, _properly_."

"As much as I am enjoying this, I agree," David conceded.

Kurt lifted himself and moved to one side as he descended to the bed, falling softly to David's side as David pulled Kurt closer in his arm. The two lay in silence for a moment.

"Do your parents drink a lot?" Kurt asked, almost seeming to be making unnecessary conversation.

David shook his head. "No, maybe a glass of wine with dinner a couple of times a week. Maybe a bottle after dinner once a month or so, when they know I'm not going to be around after dinner. I think they like to get romantic that way. That used to happen more often when I was younger: they'd kill a bottle of wine after dinner, and I'd see them cuddling on the couch after. Then it kinda stopped when I started high school. Now that they were apart for a while and they're back together, it seems like they're back to that once-a-month, give-or-take thing again."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed. "That's kind-of sweet."

"What's up with Sam and Mercedes?" David asked. "Are they, like, an item?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not sure," Kurt explained. "They were together last summer, then Sam's family moved to Kentucky, then Finn and Rachel got Sam to move back for the glee club. In the meantime, Mercedes started dating this football player named Shane. Then, when Sam came back, she was kinda torn and broke up with both of them really melodramatically. I think she broke Shane's heart, but her and Sam are still good friends. Actually, it seems like more than that, but it's all unspecified. They're just friends if you ask either one of them."

"Geeze: _ask a simple question_ ," David rhetorically observed before changing the subject. "So, um, what was it that made things so crazy this afternoon that you had to physically, uh, disable Blaine and throw him out of the house?"

Kurt shook his head and made a fatigued sound, a cross between a loud breath and a sigh. "Blaine came in with this attitude, like he was willing to forgive me, and I wasn't having it. I told him how much of a fake I thought he was, and then he was yelling about having been denied a goodbye kiss. Then he tried to kiss me, and I kicked him."

"That is just too weird for me to wrap my head around right now," David said.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt spoke, "It is absolutely unimportant."

"Tomorrow's still a school day for you, right? You don't think Blaine is going to be a problem, do you?"

"Yes," Kurt answered. "Tomorrow's a school day. No, I think Blaine would need to be an idiot to cause a problem when all of my friends are looking after me. Thursday is not a school day, but the commencement ceremony is Thursday night. I'd love you to be there, but, like your commencement, the seating is limited. Unlike your commencement, though, no special exceptions have been made for my friends."

David smiled and pulled Kurt closer. "I'd go if I could, but I'm just happy that I'll get to be with you later that evening, I hope."

Kurt raised himself up on an elbow, pulling himself closer to David's face, and, lifting David's head from behind, kissed David's forehead. David closed his eyes and smiled, chuckling quietly. "I love it when you do that," David's voice was so quiet that it was nearly a whistle. "It makes me feel so, um, _loved_."

Kurt pulled David close to his chest as David responded by wrapping his arms around Kurt's body. "David, you _are_ loved, and not just by me."

"Yeah, I know," David responded quietly. "You make me feel so damned _wanted_." The two held each other closely: for that time it seemed that their embrace held them together seamlessly; for a short while, the only sound audible to them was the sound of their breathing.

"I hear voices," Kurt started. "Downstairs. I think they're looking for us. Sit up on the edge of the bed."

David responded immediately, buttoning his shirt once sitting upright. Kurt fully opened his bedroom door, pulled his laptop from his desk, and sat next to David on the edge of the bed, the laptop between them. The laptop booted quickly and the screen illuminated their faces as it came to life.

When Burt gingerly approached Kurt's opened bedroom door, he saw David and Kurt sitting side-by-side, eyes fixed on the computer screen. "Hey, Dad," Kurt called from his seated position, blowing the cover of Burt's overly-conscious, stealthy gait.

"Hey guys," Burt spoke.

"Hi, Mr. Hummel," David greeted.

"We didn't know where you were," Burt explained. "You weren't downstairs with Finn and the others, and you weren't with us."

"There was something David wanted to show me on the computer," Kurt answered. "That's all. Just kinda happened, spur-of-the-moment, when we came upstairs with the dishes and silverware."

Burt nodded, relieved, affecting an air of failed toughness.

"Are my parents going to be ready to go soon?" David asked. "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna hafta drive, huh?"

"Yeah, you should be the one driving," Burt answered. "I think they'll be wanting to leave soon. I'll go tell them that you'll be down in a minute." Burt pointed toward the downstairs direction nervously as if he was a teenager caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

"Careful going down the steps, Dad," Kurt called out, a slightly mocking tone.

David faced Kurt , smiling and shaking his head. "Quick thinking."

Kurt moved the laptop to an unoccupied space of the bed and leaned in toward David, speaking just above a whisper. "Kiss me goodnight, David. I don't think we'll have that luxury once we get downstairs."

David closed the space between them, fulfilling Kurt's request.

 

**Friday, May 25**

It was late morning, just after eleven o'clock, and David had just sat down at his laptop to search listings for an apartment near his campus when his phone buzzed to life. He was surprised to see an incoming call from Finn.

"Hey, Finn," David spoke into the phone, "what's going on?"

The phone was silent at first. "Hey, Dave," Finn returned, sounding somber.

"Everything okay, Finn?" David spoke.

"Uh, nah, not okay, really," Finn answered. "Kurt and Rachel and I all opened our letters from the colleges we applied to just now, just a little while ago at the school. Kurt didn't get into that school."

David puzzled. "I thought it was, like, definite. I thought he was in."

"Yeah," Finn muttered. "So did Kurt. We all did. I called you because I didn't think Kurt would, at least not, like, right now."

"Well, where is he?" David asked, concerned.

"He's here at the house," Finn answered. "Up in his room. Burt and Carole as still here, but they're leaving him alone for a while."

"Do you think it'd help if I came?"

"That's why I called you, Dave. If anyone can turn Kurt's mood around, it's you."

"I'm on it," David's tone was purposeful.

"Good," Finn responded. "I'm going to be working in the garage for a few hours. That helps me when I'm kinda out-of-it. Helps me focus."

"Oh, hey," David interjected. "What about you and Rachel? What did your letters say?"

"Rachel got in. I didn't."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry, Finn," David said, empathetic.

"Really, it's how I thought it would happen, but nobody expected this thing with Kurt," Finn expanded. "Are you gonna be around to run tomorrow morning?"

"Uh, yeah," David answered. "I don't think my parents are gonna make it, but I'll be there."

"Cool, um," Finn answered, unsure, "I'd really like to talk after if you're cool with that."

"Absolutely, Finn," David spoke, accommodating. "You can bend my ear as much as you like, okay?"

David heard Finn let out a feeble laugh. "Okay, Dave. See you then."

"Later, Finn," David answered. "I'll be there in a few to see Kurt, just as soon as I can get there."

"Bye, Dave."

 

* * *

 

Kurt was sitting alone in his bedroom when he he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," Kurt answered called out, half-hearted.

The door opened slowly and David stepped in tentatively. "Hey, Kurt. Finn called me and told me what was going on. Hope it's okay that I came here. Your parents just told me to come up and knock."

Kurt rose to his feet and fell into David's arms, closing his eyes. "Yes. I'm okay with it. Good to see you, actually."

David pulled back after a moment to assess Kurt's face, an expression of concern on his own. David spoke after a moment. "Are you sad, Kurt?"

Kurt closed his eyes and led David to sit on the edge of his bed. "I'm not so much sad," Kurt said, "not so much as disappointed in myself for not having a backup plan." The two pulled apart, and Kurt sat down on the edge of his bed; David sat beside him.

"So, what are you going to do?" David asked quietly, attentively, addressing Kurt's face, his hand resting on Kurt's back.

"I really don't know," Kurt answered directly. "I suppose I'll stay around here, maybe get some kind of job, re-apply next year but to more than one school next time."

"You... ," David began hesitantly, "could see if you could still get in somewhere."

"Nobody's going to be interested in new applicants at this late point in time," Kurt sounded, defeating.

"Well, didn't you say that the person from that school you were trying to get into liked your audition?" David asked. "Like, a lot? And didn't you say that was a pretty exclusive, prestigious school?"

"Yes," Kurt still sounded quiet, low-spirited, "twently applicants per year, and, yes, the dean of the school spoke very highly of my audition."

"Well, it's maybe a long-shot," David offered, "but, maybe see if they'll write a letter of recommendation to another performing-arts school; and maybe they'd make a late-acceptance for a applicant who came highly recommended by the dean of a prestigious school."

Kurt piqued, sitting straighter suddenly. "Do you think that might work?"

"Kurt, it's certainly worth a try," David countered. "First thing is to get a list of schools you might want to attend and contact them to see if there's any chance at all for a late applicant. Then get in contact with that dean and see if they'll write you a letter of recommendation."

"Yes," Kurt added, "she might even point me in the direction of another school, actually."

"You never know," David answered. "Even if it doesn't work out, you could take some community college courses just to get some of your mandatory stuff out of the way. I think half the people who go to community colleges go for that reason."

Kurt's mood was beginning to lighten as David continued. "You know the school I'm going to has excellent arts programs; and there are two excellent arts colleges in Pittsburgh. Nothing would be more amazing than you and me going to the same school; and, if that doesn't happen, just being in the same city would be awesome."

At this, Kurt actually smiled.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, though," David spoke. "It's early enough in the day that you might be able to look up some schools and make a few phone calls just to see if there's any possibility of them considering a highly-recommended late applicant. Get an email out to the dean of that New York school to see if they'll recommend you. You've got some work to do; but I'm here, and I'll do whatever I can."

Kurt looked down at the floor, smiling, and shook his head before turning back up to face David.

"What?" David asked, puzzled by Kurt's expression.

Kurt shook his head and reached to enfold David in his arms. "You are so full of enthusiasm for me, David. You are wonderful."

David smiled and nodded as the two unfolded, speaking again. "Well, if you're down, I want to bring you back up if I can. And hopefully I'm good for a decent idea or two."

"Well, your idea, you're right that it's a long-shot; but you're also right that it makes sense," Kurt spoke, nodding.

"Grab your laptop, and we'll search for some contact information on some colleges which seem like a good fit for what you're looking for," David suggested. "Then we'll make some phone calls and email that dean, and then, as long as it's not too late, I want to take you out for ice cream."

At the last suggestion, Kurt rolled his eyes before facing downward and chuckling and finally facing a smirking David. "You have me laughing and happy at my most disappointing time so far this year, and then you had to mention ice cream. You are infuriating, David Karofsky."

David continued to smirk. "What can I say? I want to have ice cream with my boyfriend this afternoon. Maybe a butterscotch sundae in a waffle-cone. And maybe he'll get a hot fudge brownie sundae, and we can share."

Kurt shook his head in dizzy exasperation as he stood and walked to his desk to boot his laptop.

 

**Saturday, May 26**

David's truck and Finn's Cherokee practically followed each other into the park entrance. The sky was overcast, and the air was damp; but it was fully daylight and fairly warm at seven o'clock when the two boys met for their run.

Each climbed out of their vehicles and greeted the other stoically: David wasted little time before asking Finn about his plans. "So, is the Army a definite thing for you now?" David spoke as the two warmed themselves for their run.

"Yeah, I met with the recruiter yesterday," Finn answered directly and unemotionally. "Actually, I had met with him before. Yesterday I just finalized everything."

"Does everybody know?"

"Everybody but Rachel. I'm going to tell her tomorrow morning. I'm taking her to the train station, and we're all going to say goodbye to her. She's leaving for New York."

"So I guess you won't be here tomorrow morning?"

"Nah, but I'll be here probably every day after that until I leave. I gotta be in the best shape I can be in to minimize the ordeal of basic training." Finn paused before remarking, "No parents today?"

"No, my parents are helping one of my mom's friends with an estate sale this morning," David answered. "Your mom and stepdad?"

"They just decided to stay at home," Finn responded. "I'm sure they both feel bad about Kurt's news, and they're not too crazy about my future plans either." Finn paused for a moment, summoning a smile, looking toward David. "Kurt seemed like he was in a way better mood after seeing you yesterday, though."

David smirked and nodded at the comment, and the two began their morning run. After weeks of David running the park, rarely missing a day, he found himself keeping up with Finn's pace much more effectively, even though he had to push himself to accomplish that consistent speed.

Typically sweaty and exhausted as the run finished, David and Finn propped themselves next to each other, leaning against Finn's car, catching their breath and cooling-down. A wind had kicked up, giving the air a chill; and dark clouds were rolling above in the already gray sky.

"Are we going for breakfast?" David asked.

"I think I'm gonna hafta pass today because I have a ton of stuff to take care of at home," Finn replied, "but if you could hang out for a few, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure," David replied, and the two stood in silence for a number of minutes it seemed. David felt that Finn just wanted someone to be near other than the people he saw every day, whether they had anything to say to each other or not. Regardless, David eventually broke the silence. "So, um, when do you leave for basic?"

"It'll be the last week of June," Finn replied, deadpan.

David chuckled feebly before speaking, "I believe in what you're doing, I respect your decision, and you gotta do what's right by you, but, damn, Finn, I'm gonna miss you, and that sucks."

Finn grimaced, a partial smile and turned his head toward David. "I'm gonna miss you too, Dave." Finn turned forward, staring ahead. "I'm gonna miss all my friends. Damn." Finn's face pained and his head turned sharply downward.

"You okay, Hudson?" David spoke, lifting himself from his leaning posture to standing and stepping more closely to Finn.

"I'm gonna miss Rachel so much, man," Finn stammered as he succumbed to tears.

David reached toward Finn, and Finn, almost instinctively, reached outward, pulling David into a rough hug. "I know," David said, "I'm sure that must be really difficult."

"It hurts me to leave her, to send her on her way without me, but it just wouldn't be fair to either of us, her especially, any other way," Finn nearly whimpered into David's shoulder.

"There's two people, two sets of feelings that need to be considered," David spoke quietly but strongly. "If something isn't right for one of them, it can't be right for the other either. You gotta do what's right by you. I don't know Rachel well, but I hope she understands."

Finn nodded, collecting himself. "Sorry about that, Dave."

"No, man, really, it's okay," David spoke, "Glad I could be here for you."

Finn nodded and spoke quietly, "Thanks."

The two stood in silence as they began to feel the chill of the wind in their sweaty clothes, but neither wanted to leave just yet. David spoke, almost sounding defeated. "I think about it, it's just, like, ridiculous. This person who's been right in front of me for, like, my entire life turns out to be this solid friend, and I only realize this a couple of months before he goes away."

Finn, a subtle smile coming to his face, addressed David, straight-on. "Aw, Dave, we're gonna keep in touch. I'm sure I'll be around sometimes. We haven't seen the last of each other." The smile left Finn's face and his expression fell serious. His eyes narrowed and he spoke, almost a whisper, too distinct to be a mumble, quickly as if he needed to get the words out. "You're gonna be my brother-in-law someday."

David's eyes widened; his expression puzzled. He shook his head, speaking only after what seemed like an eternity of stunned silence. "Aw, Finn, that's a long way off. Years, if it actually happens at all."

Finn shook his head, serious expression still fixed on his face. "I can feel it, man. You're right, I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. And I'm gonna be there when it happens, and I'm gonna be so proud and happy for the both of you."

David cast his gaze downward. "That's heavy. I'm so blown away by what you just said, Finn, that I can't even have a proper reaction."

"Well, Finn said, "I should get going anyway."

David nodded, and the two hugged each other briefly. "Thanks for hanging with me," Finn said as they unlocked.

"Yeah, you too," David spoke as he moved toward his truck. "See you here, uh, Monday morning, I guess."

 

**Sunday, May 27**

David began the day as he did most Sundays: riding to Faurot Park with his parents and running the park grounds while his parents walked them briskly. The difference this day was that none of his friends were available to run the park with him, and, likewise, his parents enjoyed no company from Burt and Carole either. It bothered none of them much: David would have preferred to have a friend near his age as a running companion, most of all Kurt; but he still enjoyed early-morning run and the time spent with his parents afterward eating breakfast at the Dining Car Cafe.

Later in the day, Kurt called David to coordinate plans for the afternoon. David had been invited to Sean's graduation party, and Kurt and David attended as a couple. It was the season for graduation parties, and both Kurt and David had multiple friends' parties they planned to attend, sometimes more than one in one day; and they planned to attend them all as a couple. The two enjoyed themselves immensely at Sean's Sunday afternoon party where they reconnected with several of David's Thurston friends, some of whom they'd not seen in weeks; and the pair's new status as a couple was greeted with congratulations as well. The party, though. did not extend late into the evening, and David left Kurt at the Hummel house just before seven-thirty and was home himself before eight o'clock.

Despite having seen each other in some manner every day for the past week, Both David and Kurt would have liked to see each other for greater periods of time. They would, however, be getting together at the park Monday morning with Finn, then having breakfast together and eventually working together toward David's idea of placing Kurt into a college for the fall semester: the next few days, or perhaps weeks, promised to be busy for them, if only for that particular goal; and they both looked forward to their time together, regardless of how it would be used.

David was reclining on his bed Sunday evening, mind in warm reverie which lingered nearly an hour after having kissed Kurt goodbye for the day. The sunset's rays were lighting the room in golden hues and, although David's mind was awash in happy thoughts of Kurt, he would have loved nothing more than to have Kurt beside him: indeed, the thought of Kurt kept David sublimely content even when they were apart.

The ringer of David's phone brought David out of his waking dream-state. He reached for his phone and considered the name before answering. The identity of the caller struck him as odd: Blaine Anderson.

"Hello?" David answered curiously into the phone.

"Uh, hello, Dave?" The caller answered. "It's Blaine."

"Yeah, Blaine, it's me, Dave."

"I was, uh," the voice over the phone seemed hesitant, "hoping we could talk for a while."

"Um, yeah, sure," David answered, taken aback and not completely comfortable. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You know what happened between Kurt and me this week, right?" Blaine asked.

"I know something about it," David answered. "I don't think I know much, mostly what Kurt told me, and Finn told me a little also. I really don't have an objective view or, like, your side of the story." David paused for a moment before continuing. "Um, you know, I might not be the best person for you to talk with on this. You know I can't just keep this conversation between you and me, right? You know I'm gonna hafta tell Kurt that we had this conversation, and if Kurt wants to know what we talked about, I'm going to tell him."

"Yeah, I guess that's, that's," Blaine stammered slightly, "that's fair, I guess."

"Let me get a few things out in the open before you start," David offered, direct but polite. "Y'know, I was really kinda bummed out when you and Kurt broke up. I really liked the two of you together. I considered Kurt my friend, and I wanted to be friends with the two of you as a couple. This thing with Kurt and me being together, Blaine, I mean, I made sure there was no chance of the two of you being together or it wouldn't be happening."

Blaine breathed loudly, it sounded like disappointment in himself. "I feel like I acted like an idiot."

"Maybe this is a conversation you should be having with Kurt," David said. "I don't know what you are hoping to achieve by talking to me. I mean, I'll listen to you, sure, but I don't know what I'll be able to say to help you."

Blaine continued, seeming almost ignorant of David's words. "When I look back on it, I did so many wrong things where Kurt was concerned. I gave him bad advice, told him to do things I would have never done myself. I lied to him a few times about what I went through."

"What do you mean, Blaine?" David sounded quiet, almost suspicious.

"When we first met, I tried to come off like I was some kinda teacher or authority figure. I told him that I was going to Dalton Academy because I was bullied and Dalton had a strict zero-tolerance for such behavior. That wasn't exactly true. My parents wouldn't have me going anywhere but an all-boys prep-school. That I was gay and Dalton had a zero-tolerance policy was coincidental. I told Kurt to confront his bullies. That's something I never had to do. It was easy for me to give that advice. I never had to live it."

"Um, Blaine," David began, "to give you some credit, you did confront me about bullying Kurt."

"Yeah, and that was the wrong thing to do in public, and I cowered. I was all courageous when it was just talk. Then I was actually physically threatened, and I froze."

"There was that other time you came at me," David reminded. "You didn't turn away then."

"By that point, I felt like I had to at least put on a show, I guess. Kurt and I were boyfriends. I felt some duty, even if it was something I had to force myself to do."

"But you were sort-of a mentor to Kurt," David pointed out. "You were involved with PFLAG."

"PFLAG was my mom's idea," Blaine confessed. "I told Kurt that my parents were disappointed in my being gay. That wasn't exactly the truth either. I couldn't do Boy Scouts or other regular youth activities so mom had to find some other extracurricular group to get me involved with. It was actually useful stuff. It taught me a good set of guidelines, but that didn't exactly make me any more honest about other things."

"Okay, but, if your parents wanted you in prep-school, how is it that you got them to let you to transfer to McKinley?" David asked.

"Well, Kurt wanted that, but I was thinking that I'd be ruling the glee club if I transferred. McKinley had beaten Dalton before, and I thought, well, that would look better when I was looking for a college or going professional, being in a glee club that was likely to be National Champion one day. Plus, I knew I was better than Finn and I'm way better than Kurt. I was sure that Mr. Schuester was going to want to feature me in everything."

David shook his head, silent for a moment before speaking. "It was a ploy to beef-up your professional resume?"

"Yeah." Blaine's answer was quiet but direct.

"And where was Kurt in all of this?" David asked.

"Kurt was the guy I could count on to fight for me," Blaine admitted. "If there was some question and it came between, say, me and Finn to get to perform some solo, I knew Kurt would do all my fighting for me, and I could just sit back and not look like I was being greedy or something."

"And what were you doing for him in return?" David asked, more dumbfounded by the minute.

"I was trying to be the perfect boyfriend, but I guess wearing all the right clothes and reading all the right magazines and following all the trends will only get you so far." Blaine sounded almost unaffected in his response.

"It really sounds like you're pretty indifferent to this whole thing, the way you're able to talk about it like you are," David reasoned. "Tell me, what was the point of all of this? Do you miss Kurt or something?"

"I miss having someone like Kurt around. To build me up. To make me think I can do no wrong."

David's voice lowered, almost a growl. "Tell me, when you two were together, what would happen if you two got into a disagreement or a fight about something? Did that ever happen?"

Blaine was silent for some time. "I'd usually wait until he came back to me all apologetic."

"And that worked for you for a while. And you thought it still would."

Blaine's voice became louder, somewhat anxious. "Yeah, but, like, not only didn't that work this time, but I look like an idiot in front of the whole school."

"You know, I offered to talk to you earlier this week, and Kurt didn't want me to do that. He said that you said some things he didn't want me to hear."

"I said some pretty unfair things about you, mostly to hurt Kurt."

"Why would you want to hurt Kurt?"

"I'm not sure," Blaine said after a silence. "I guess because him losing interest in me bothered me."

"And it bothers you more that you might look like an idiot in front of the school than it would if you could somehow save face at Kurt's expense, at the expense of hurting him," David reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess." Blaine sounded soft, defeated.

"Blaine, this is really messed-up," David uttered, remaining silent for a moment before continuing. "You didn't really know me, but think about how I was a year-and-a-half ago. I was this mess of rage and self-hatred. So much of me was superficial and trying to hide who I was; I was at the mercy of what everyone thought about me and terrified of myself. It took me to get out of McKinley and into Thurston where, despite all of my biggest efforts and the chance of starting over, I still couldn't shake the fear of people really knowing me for who I was. It took me to get out of the school system completely, to view it from the outside, to realize that all of those pressures for us to be what we're expected to be are total bullshit. And I hate to sound like I'm coming off as the guy who's lived through more than you because I don't really believe that's true, but I look back on the person I was a year ago versus the person I am now, and I'm astounded at how far I've come. Blaine, a year can make a huge difference; and you _are_ younger than Kurt and me."

Blaine was silent, so David spoke again. "Do you miss Kurt's friendship, Blaine?"

Blaine audibly gulped. "I honestly don't know how I feel."

David exhaled. "Blaine, I saw the video of the New Directions at the National competition. Remember what it felt like to be singing and making music with Kurt? Remember how it felt when you won that competition? Remember the ceremony where Schuester got that teaching award and you hanging out with Kurt and me afterward? Remember that crazy commencement ceremony of mine? These are experiences you had with Kurt, and they're only ones that I can recall first-hand. You must have hundreds of others. You can't tell me that they weren't great times, and I don't think you can tell me that Kurt didn't figure into these experiences in a big way for you. You can't tell me that you don't have amazing memories of being friends with Kurt."

"You're right," Blaine conceded.

"Well, then, I think you should be having this discussion with Kurt, not me," David's voice was slightly pleading.

"I can't."

Blaine's two-word answer caused a wave of nausea to overcome David momentarily: the year-old memory still stinging. "Blaine, a year ago, I said those same two words to Kurt. 'I can't.' For months I wished I hadn't. I feel that I could regret that to this day; but I can also look at how far I've come in that year, and I can't regret anything. Blaine, if you value what you had with Kurt, it's within you to work that out. If you can't bring yourself to have an honest one-on-one talk with him now, maybe in a couple of months, after everything has cooled-down, you'll be able to do that. Maybe you could just call him up and ask how he's been and let the conversation happen as it happens, pick up the pieces that way. I don't think Kurt will hold a grudge, and I don't think he'd demand an apology or an explanation. He's not like that. Just be genuine enough to approach him honestly as the person you are and not the person you've tried to build yourself up to be. You'll be alright."

"So, you're saying I have a _year_ to get this right?" Blaine asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"You have the rest of your life, but the sooner the better," David almost snickered. "I gotta ask, why call me with this? I mean, we really barely know each other."

"I don't know. I guess because you're close to Kurt, and, unlike, say Finn or Mercedes or Rachel, you didn't see my childish outburst first-hand." Blaine paused before adding, "And you're smart."

"I'm smart with math and physics problems," David admitted, an air of humor. "I'm not so smart when it comes to people, but I'm working on that, hopefully getting better. The next time I hear from you, I'd like you, me, and Kurt to be hanging out together as friends. Is it going to bother you to hang out with me and Kurt if we're a couple?"

"It might," Blaine mumbled.

"Then work on it, I guess," David spoke, sounding tired. "That's all I can expect." David paused before asking, "Hey, are you going to try to talk to Kurt sometime soon?"

"I don't think I'm ready just yet," Blaine admitted. "I might wait a couple of months like you said and see how I feel about it."

"Okay," David sounded somewhat disappointed.

"Hey Dave," Blaine's voice perked, "Thanks for talking to me."

David hesitated for a moment before responding. "No problem. It was weird, but nothing I couldn't handle. You can call again if you want to, but I don't know if I'm really much help."

"No, it did help me to talk about it," Blaine said. "Thanks. Goodbye, Dave."

"Bye, Blaine."

David ended the call and immediate pulled Kurt's number from his contacts.

"Hello, David," Kurt's greeting was melodic and warm.

"Hi, Kurt," David began with some reluctance. "I just had a really unexpected phone conversation with Blaine."

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice dropped. "What did he want?"

"To talk about what happened with you and him this week," David answered.

"Why did he call _you_?"

"Honestly, I asked him that more than once. I gather because I'm close to you and he didn't feel right talking to any of his other friends who witnessed him making an ass out of himself." David paused. "I think he regrets the way everything happened. I can tell he misses your friendship, but he also said that he's not ready to approach the whole thing just yet." David fell silent for a moment. "How do _you_ feel about it?" He finally asked.

Kurt thought before answering. "I wouldn't be expecting a big apology or anything. I'd really just want him to give me the same consideration that he feels he himself is due. Nothing more."

David exhaled, almost a sigh of relief. "That's pretty-much what I told him."

Kurt made a quick breathing noise which David interpreted as a smile before speaking. "I had a really good time with you today, David. Your friends from Thurston are great."

"Yeah, I loved seeing all of them too," David replied. "We'll have to get together with them regularly over the summer."

"How are you enjoying being attached?" Kurt asked, as flirty lilt in his voice.

David smiled at the question. "I'm loving it."

There was a passage of silence before Kurt spoke, a barely-voiced whisper over the phone, "I love you, David."

"I love you too, Kurt. So much."

The two hung in silence on the phone for a few moments before David began again, "We need to continue our dance lessons one of these days, Kurt."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed into a giggle. "Thanks for reminding me. And I'm looking forward to that, definitely."

"So, I'll see you tomorrow morning at the park?" David asked, sounding optimistic.

"I'll be there, David," Kurt assured, "Seeing you first thing in the morning is the next-best thing to waking up next to you."

David let out a near-laugh as he smiled uncontrollably at Kurt's statement. "I have to agree with that."

Another pleasant silence passed before Kurt said, "I think I'm feeling sleep coming on, David."

"Yeah," David spoke, almost wistfully. "I'll probably be up for a while. It's not that late, but we are getting up pretty early tomorrow."

"Goodnight, David."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 12,000

**Chapter 38**

**Jumpcut**

**Thursday, August 2**

Kurt and David walked from the serving-window of the ice cream shop back to Kurt's Navigator. Kurt always kept a stash of napkins in the compartment between the front seats for situations such as this, and David was aware; but David made sure to take a small pile of napkins with him to Kurt's car: waffle-cone ice-cream sundaes were potentially messy.

The two climbed into the front seats of Kurt's car, making themselves comfortable after slamming the doors. The early-August weather was perfect: mild, sunny, and not excessively hot; and the oncoming evening as the sun made its way toward the western horizon was cooled by a welcome breeze.

"I think this is why you normally subsist on salads and other kinds of rabbit-and-bird food," David opined as he considered Kurt's sundae, "You can still eat stuff like this and not have to worry about disrupting your body's perfect metabolism."

Kurt grinned at David. "You're onto me," he replied.

"I probably know you better than anyone else," David spoke confidently with a hint of friendly smugness. "What did you get?"

"It's a hot fudge sundae with White Turtle ice cream," Kurt replied, angling a plastic spoon into the dessert, trying to find the least-disruptive approach.

"White Castle?" David asked jokingly while similarly sizing-up his sundae.

"White _Turtle_ ," Kurt replied with a cross between a smile and a sneer. "It's vanilla with pecans and caramel rippled through it."

David grinned. "I thought maybe it was White Castle. Vanilla with chunks of hamburger and onions."

Kurt stifled a giggle. "You're being intentionally silly."

David's face affected a serious expression. "You like it when I'm silly, and you know it."

Kurt smirked defeat and spoke just before hoisting a spoonful of ice cream, fudge, and whipped cream into his mouth. "You're right. You know everything about me."

David smirked to himself, personally satisfied, as he scooped a similar spoonful from his sundae.

"So," Kurt began, "What did you end up getting?"

David swallowed before answering. "It's fresh black raspberry. A hot fudge sundae like yours otherwise. It's awesome. Want some?" David dug his spoon into the sundae and retrieved a chunk of the vanilla ice cream rippled with dark-purple black raspberry and topped with warm fudge and a smear of the whipped cream, reaching his arm over and offering it to Kurt. Kurt smiled and craned his neck toward the spoon, gently taking it into his open mouth.

"That is really good," Kurt spoke after swallowing.

"Can I try some of yours?" David asked.

"Of course," Kurt obliged by holding his sundae toward David. David poked his spoon into the sundae and pulled a chunky spoonful upward, waiting for the gooey strands of caramel to settle before pulling away and eating it.

"That's awesome," he spoke, nodding and smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth reflexively as he swallowed.

"So, what's up for the rest of the evening after this?" Kurt asked between spoonfuls of his sundae.

"Mmm," David swallowed and blotted a smear of melted ice cream from the corner of his mouth with a napkin before answering. "Nothing in mind. Hang out at my place before you go home maybe? Or go somewhere? I'm open to suggestion."

"We can go to your place," Kurt answered. "With all of the packing and Dad and Carole hanging around, I think I just want to have some quiet-time with you."

David nodded, smacking his tongue again, licking his lips before he spoke. "Yeah, it's been a while since we've done that. My parents are out. Mom and Dad are at some awards banquet for his office. It'll just be you and me, at least until they get back."

Kurt grinned, observing David as he spoke. David had that odd habit, maybe a nervous tic, of licking his lips. Kurt was careful never to mention it for fear that David's awareness of it would cause him to stop. It was one of an infinitely growing number of things which Kurt found to be incredibly endearing about David.

The two finished their sundaes, disposed of their sticky napkins, and cleaned-up with moist towelettes (Kurt always kept a handy dispenser in the Navigator at arm's reach). Kurt drove to David's house, and, upon climbing from Kurt's car, the two found themselves on the back porch.

"We can talk out here and watch the sunset," David offered as he and Kurt considered the redwood porch furniture: a couple of cushioned chairs, a long bench, and a large cushioned chaise lounge.

They both eyed the chaise lounge for a moment when Kurt said, "You think we could both fit onto that?"

"I think so," David offered, "Let me get situated, and we'll figure out the logistics." David seated himself onto the chaise lounge, working himself toward one side, leaving a space for Kurt on the other. Kurt smiled, giggled actually, and lowered himself into the space. "Oh, uh... wait a second," David spoke as he adjusted himself, "I got a wooden armrest poking me in the back, hang on."

Finally, David finally found a comfortable position, and Kurt settled himself to David's side, partially resting on David's chest, head reclined onto the cushion, his forehead resting to the side of David's head.

"This is snug, but it works for me," David spoke quietly.

"Mm-hm," Kurt hummed agreement as he took in the closeness of David's face in the golden light. "I had an incredible summer with you, David."

"Me too," David mumbled quietly, almost under his breath while gathering his thoughts to expand. "I don't think I have trouble expressing myself in words, but sometimes I don't do that because I think I'm going to sound sappy or cheesy or something. I'm not going to hold back right now, though. Everything we did together this summer from the coolest stuff to the most mundane activities became, like, amazing experiences for me because you were here with me." David's voice was low, maybe nervous, but his delivery was determined.

"David, I can say the same, and it doesn't sound sappy to me at all." Kurt's voice was quiet but sincere. "And we had the most incredibly fun times."

This brought forth a smile from David as Kurt continued. "Getting up early almost every morning to meet you at the park, the graduation parties, the crazy midnight movies out at OSU, every dinner, every trip to get dessert or ice cream, the couple of roadtrips: it was all amazing. Even those reckless parties with Chris and those guys."

"Mm-hmm," David laughed. "You thought _that_ was reckless? You should have seen Strando last year, before he, uh, cut back his beer consumption."

Kurt closed his eyes and shook his head in dismay before adding, "We went shopping for clothes, more than once, even."

"That was painless, actually," David admitted. "No, I take that back. It was actually kinda fun. Granted, we were shopping for mostly casual stuff, but it went far smoother than I thought it would."

"I look forward to dressing you up a little in the future," Kurt added.

"I'm actually looking forward to that too," David said with a smile, nearly an air of pride.

"We changed the brake pads on your truck," Kurt offered.

"Yeah," David's eyes brightened in reaction. "First time I ever did anything mechanical on a car. When we were done I felt like I was superhuman, not being at the mercy of some mechanic."

"Hey," Kurt jokingly protested, "What's wrong with being at the mercy of a mechanic?"

David snickered. "Nothing, I guess. But it was pretty amazing to get my hands dirty with my boyfriend in the process."

Kurt blushed and smiled. The two were silent for a moment until Kurt asked, "Which was your favorite graduation party we attended?"

"Yours," David answered without hesitation.

" _Mine_?" Kurt sounded surprised. "Mine and _Finn's_?"

"Yeah," David turned and addressed Kurt directly, nodding his head. "Definitely yours and Finn's."

"David, mine felt more like a wake than a graduation party. I was all out-of-sorts about not knowing what I was doing in the fall having not gotten into NYADA. Finn was a couple of weeks away from leaving for the army. It was just kinda sad."

"You seemed to be having a good time," David noted.

"Only because you were there with me," Kurt interjected quickly. "If you hadn't been there, it probably would have been pretty sad for me."

"Well," David remarked, "that's exactly why it was my favorite." Kurt closed his eyes and smiled as David continued. "If just me being there was enough to make you feel better at your own potentially depressing graduation party, well, then, that's reason enough for it to have been the best grad party of the summer, for me at least."

"Oh, c'mon, David," Kurt sounded almost scolding, "you had to be having more fun at, say Chris's or Howie's parties."

"More _silly_ fun, maybe, yeah," David answered defensively. "But, I mean, that really can't compare to the closeness I feel with you. If this was the most amazing summer of my life, which it definitely was, it's what I have with you that made it that way." David paused for a moment before expanding his thoughts. "Plus, I mean, Finn and I had gotten pretty close. It wasn't the last time I saw him before he left, but it was good to give him, like, a formal send-off." David paused for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Wha-which was _your_ favorite grad party we went to?"

Kurt sighed. "You won't be bothered if I say one other than yours, will you?"

David snickered. "Not at all. Mine was boring, and I know it. Although, all my mom's annoying friends became enamored with one Kurt Hummel that night."

Kurt laughed. "That's probably why it doesn't rate so highly with me as a party. I mean, networking myself as a fashion consultant to affluent local women turned into the best summer job I ever had, along with the French and English tutoring jobs which your friend Rupert helped me get. Otherwise, though, I didn't get to spend much time with you at your graduation party, and you were busy greeting all of the guests."

"Yeah" David sighed wistfully.

"My favorites were Gretchen's little post-commencement get-together and Howie's party," Kurt offered.

"Really?" David reacted, surprised somewhat. "I'd have thought it would have been Rachel's or Mercedes' or one of your other friends from McKinley."

Kurt shook his head subtly, jerkily. "No, I mean, those were _nice_ , but there was always the Blaine elephant in the room. He was polite enough to both of us, but we were all keeping our distance. That made everything very awkward for me, especially that almost-obligatory around-the-piano singalong that ended Rachel's party."

"That was just totally weird," David confessed. "I have never been at a party like that before."

"When you go to the Berrys' for any reason at all, you can expect her dads to sit at the piano while Rachel and whoever else happens to be around sing," Kurt concluded, "It's part of the deal."

"Actually, Blaine did talk to me a little at Rachel's party," David admitted. "Mostly small talk, like 'groovy weather we've been having, huh?'"

" _'Groovy'_?" Kurt's face twisted upon speaking the word.

"Yeah," David nodded, "he seems to be channeling some weird, uh, wannabe _bohemian_ vibe or something."

"Yes, I did notice that his manner of dress was a little less than impeccable, and he was wearing his hair longer and more relaxed," Kurt observed.

"Did you think it was working for him?"

"No," Kurt muttered quietly, almost regretfully, "He went from a fake something to a fake something else."

"Maybe not," David opined. "You never know. Maybe this is more his real self." David's voice became quieter when he asked, "Did you two ever get to talking again this summer?"

"No," Kurt responded, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Other than congenial greetings st the parties, we both kept our distance."

After a span of silence, David asked, "So, then, why were Howie's and Gretchen's parties your favorite ones?"

Kurt was slow and thoughtful in answering. "Well, it was at Gretchen's party that I realized that the feelings I was having for you were stronger than friendship and admiration. It was at that party that I knew that I wanted to be closer to you in every respect." David smiled as Kurt reached for David's hand and, holding it in his own, pulled it upward and held it to his chest. "And then, by the time of Howie's party, you and I were together, and Howie's party was such a fun, crazy time with such a mix of wild people, like I'd never been to a party with such a mix of eclectic types." Kurt giggled softly for a moment. "And you and I were able to sneak off and have some undisturbed time together and return to the party, and I'd never done anything like that before."

At that David smiled fully, almost a laugh, biting his lower lip in his wide grin. "And I think back to Gretchen's party," David recollected, "there was Howie, probably the geekiest guy I've ever known, and he ends up getting laid well before I ever did."

Kurt's face creased though he was still smiling. "Oh, come on, David. You're just more discriminating than Howie was. You weren't just going to give it away to first interested party."

"That's true," David said with a nod and an affected expression of confidence, "and that was another amazing thing that happened this summer."

Kurt continued, caressing David's hand as he held it to his chest. "Waiting until it felt right, but we didn't have to wait too long," Kurt paused before gently speaking, "and losing our virginity to each other?"

"Nnngh." David's face soured slightly with a disapproving sound.

"What?" Kurt asked innocently.

"That word, 'losing'," David explained. "To me, 'lost' always sounds like something unintentional. What we did was definitely intentional."

"Okay, maybe, then, we took each other's virginity?" Kurt offered.

"That sounds _worse_ ," David's face retained an irked expression. "To me 'took' sounds almost like theft or something. That wasn't the case at all."

"Okay, smarty," Kurt whispered, playfully challenging David, "how would you say it?"

David thought for a moment, collecting his words. "I might say that we _gave_ ourselves to each other that way, and... that... we _accepted_ that from each other. Both ways, really."

"Both ways," Kurt's expression became more serious.

"Yeah," David expanded, "as gay men, we can kinda, um, give ourselves twice."

Kurt smiled thoughtfully. "We can lose our vir...oops, I mean _give our virginity_ twice. You mean, like, once as top and once as bottom?"

"Mm-hm," David hummed quietly, shyly, almost hesitant.

"Y'know that's amazing," Kurt observed, still quiet but slightly louder. "You drop the f-bomb regularly, and it sounds so second-nature that everyone who knows you is completely desensitized to it, but you can't bring yourself to use terms like that, or even, like 'top' and 'bottom' when it comes to talking about us." David chuckled quietly as Kurt asked, "Now, why _is_ that?"

David shook his head and looked at Kurt with an almost embarrassed smile. "I don't know. I guess it's because those terms, even, like, the fairly innocuous ones, sound a little vulgar or something, and, in my mind, there's nothing vulgar about what you and I have together."

David's explanation left Kurt silent for a moment, thoughtful, face blank before he spoke again, quietly exasperated. "Dammit, David. The way your mind works, the things you say, you get right to me."

"It's a good thing, I hope," David said, a pleading hint to his voice.

Kurt exhaled loudly, before speaking again, quietly. "It's perfect, David. It's almost too perfect. You have a way of putting things that almost, like, _stings_ , but it's perfect."

David smiled to himself as Kurt pressed their hands tighter to his chest, knowing his logic had won Kurt over, but Kurt wasn't ready to let his facial expression admit it yet. David lifted Kurt's chin to the level of his own. Kurt fought back a smile but eventually succumbed. David tilted and stretched his neck allowing his lips to meet Kurt's briefly. As they unlocked, Kurt's eyes were closed, but his face bore a contented smile as rested his head on David's shoulder.

The light from the setting sun continued to warm the back porch as the remainder of the sky streaked with mauve. The silence felt perfect, but it didn't last for more than a minute.

"Our road trip to the school at Oberlin was pretty awesome," Kurt commented.

"Yeah," David answered, almost reluctant, but added, "They treated you like royalty there."

"You know that was all your doing, David."

David laughed. "It wasn't _all_ my _doing_. I just gave you the initial idea, and everything fell into place."

"Take some credit, David," Kurt scolded with a smile. "You told me to see if Carmen Tibideaux would recommend me to a performing arts school. Not only did she recommend me, but her recommendation pretty-much had the people at the Oberlin school come to _me_ to offer _me_ an enrollment; and, Ms. Tibideaux all but guaranteed my acceptance to NYADA next fall as long as I do well at the Oberlin school."

"Well, I'm glad that I could help you to get what you wanted," David spoke, a serious expression. "I mean, I know that Oberlin isn't exactly a bustling metropolis like New York is."

"No, but, I mean, we made that roadtrip together," Kurt countered, enthusiastic. "It's a charming little college town, and it's less than an hour from Cleveland. And, it's better than me wasting time in Lima until this time next year."

David nodded silently.

"You _are_ going to drive me out there next week, right?" Kurt asked. "Help me take my last few things out there and stay with me at my apartment Sunday into Monday, right?"

"Yeah," David voiced quietly, even moreso the second time, "yeah."

Kurt sensed a shift in David's mood; he collected his thoughts before speaking. "David, you're going away to college, and I'm going away to college, but I don't want this to be the end. We have to at least give this our best shot, to make this work. I hope you agree with me about that."

"Yeah, I do." David replied, nervous. "I'm glad you said it. I wasn't sure what you were going to say."

They were both silent for a moment before Kurt spoke, an uneasiness in his voice. "How can you say that, David?"

David inhaled and spoke. "I'm kinda scared, Kurt."

"Don't you trust me, David?"

"Kurt, I trust you completely," David's response was immediate and direct. "I trust you more than I think I trust my dad, and you know how close I feel with my dad. The thing is, Kurt, I don't do so well when I feel alone, and I'm going into a situation where I'm going to _be_ alone, at least for a while. I can't say what that's going to feel like or anything. I mean, I'm going to miss my friends, and I'm really gonna miss my mom and dad, but I'm gonna miss you so much, Kurt. It's different when I know I can see you almost every day. I'm almost scared when I think about how it's going to feel to get up in a strange place every morning and know that you're three hours away from me as opposed to a ten-minute drive."

"David, you can be an absolutely charming person," Kurt began, "and I'm sure it's going to be a lot easier for you to make friends than you think it is." Kurt paused for a moment before continuing. "Until something proves me wrong, I'm not going to lose faith in what you and I have. If you're lonely or sad or troubled, I want you to call me. If I can't answer or talk right at that time, I will call you as soon as I can. All of this goes without saying, David."

"I know, I know," David whispered, sounding almost anxious.

"And, of course I want to know when good things happen too," Kurt added. "Even though we won't be a short drive away, I want to be as big a part of your life as I can."

David's face betrayed a hinted smile.

"And we're going to be three hours away," Kurt continued. "We can visit each other sometimes. "And we'll both be back home for Thanksgiving break and the break between semesters." Kurt paused for a moment before sounding playfully threatening. "And you _are_ my date for Mr. Schue's wedding, _right_?"

David chuckled. "Yeah, absolutely. I am actually looking forward to that."

"You'll be able to fulfill that goal of dancing with me where people can see us," Kurt reminded, smiling. "It's only six weeks away."

"Mmm-hmm, but it's going to feel like forever." At this, David tipped his head to rest on Kurt's; and Kurt turned, Kissing David's cheek briefly before squirming himself snugger against David. "Thanks for the dance lessons, Kurt."

"I think people are going to be impressed," Kurt added. "Oh, you know that Finn's going to be there?"

"No, I didn't know that," David became animated.

"Yes, he's Mr. Schue's best man," Kurt explained.

"I did _not_ know that," David proclaimed more loudly. "That's very cool. I'll get to see him at the wedding then."

"Are you and Finn keeping in touch with each other like you planned," Kurt asked.

"Yeah," David answered. "Not really much when he was in basic training, but now that he's done, yeah, we'll email each other a couple of times a week. Do you hear from him much?"

"About the same," Kurt answered with a snicker. "He asked me for a picture of me and you together."

"Oh, yeah?" David chuckled. "That's cool. Which one did you send him?"

"I sent him a zip file of about twenty," David burst into a belly-laugh as Kurt continued unfazed. "I liked them all too much to pick a favorite, so I thought I'd let him decide which ones he liked."

"I'm laughing, but that would be me too," David said. "I'd definitely have trouble picking out a favorite picture of you and me. Hey, is Rachel going to be at Mr. Schue's wedding?"

"Yes, Rachel is planning to come," Kurt answered.

"How's she settling in up in NYC?" David asked.

Kurt shook his head. "Her dads are so extravagant. They actually contacted some of their friends in New York and got a sweet deal on a house in the village and bought it for her."

"They bought her a _house_?" David was dumbfounded. "In _New York_?"

"Yes, her dads are loaded, and she emailed me pictures of it," Kurt informed. "It's a cute little thing. Two floors, a terrace on the upper level, and an efficiency apartment on the basement level." Kurt paused for a moment. "Unless it's being used, that efficiency would be a perfect place for me to live if I decide to go to NYADA next year."

"Do you think you could share a living space with Rachel? I mean, don't you think she'd drive you nuts eventually?"

"Well, that's the thing," Kurt answered, "It would be my own space so I wouldn't need to deal with her if I didn't want to."

"Ah," David nodded before lowering the volume of his voice and asking, "I know it's years off, but, when the time comes, do you think you'll be able to live with me?"

Kurt smiled, but it was tempered with thought. After a moment, he spoke. "David, I can't say I know how our feelings about each other might change in the next few years. All I can say is that, what feels right now is that we give this our best try. If we make it to the semester break, I think we'll be good. If we make it to the end of the second semester, I'll be convinced that this is totally solid. The thing is, we're not the same people we were even a year ago. A lot can change, but I can say this: if you're still the same person inside as you are now, I think that I'm going to want to be with that man. He's won me over completely. He has an internal beauty about the way he thinks and things he does that consistently amazes me, and I'm in love with him."

David's face went blank. He was staring almost into space, mouth slightly agape; he spoke. "I'm just going to be quiet for a little while, I think. You just pretty-much said everything." David's voice quivered slightly and he made a quite gulping sound before he said, "I'm in love with you too, Kurt."

David breathed loudly, and his eyes watered slightly. "Um, Kurt, could you sit up for a second? My arm is falling asleep." Kurt sat up as David released his left arm from beneath him, stretched it outward, and shook it. Kurt settled himself back to David's side, more comfortable this time for both of them, as David wrapped his arm around Kurt and faced him. David addressed Kurt with soft, watery eyes for a moment before softly pulling him close. Their lips met softly as well. As they pulled apart, Kurt rested his head on David's shoulder once again, and David leaned his head onto Kurt's. David let his fingers settle in Kurt's hair, softly tangling.

"Besides, David," Kurt spoke, "I think we tested it out by spending enough time with each other this summer to come to the conclusion that we're not going to drive each other nuts when that time comes, when we're living together."

David smiled at the certainty implied by Kurt's statement as Kurt let out a yawn that made both chuckle briefly. The remaining sun was an orange glow on the horizon as the rest of the sky streaked with violet and dark blue of the oncoming twilight. It was brief minutes before Kurt nodded to sleep on David's shoulder.

Though it was hardly something new or unique at this this point in time, the feeling of having Kurt asleep in his arms never failed to make David sublimely, quietly happy. The same held true for the times when David would wake in Kurt's embrace. Though the ideas of the summer coming to its end and Kurt and David being separated by over a hundred miles and a state line still troubled David, he was troubled far less by the prospect than he was an hour ago. That Kurt found it worthwhile, essential even, to keep themselves together through being physically apart calmed David's anxieties; and David himself drifted to sleep in the cooling night air.

"Okay, kids, that's very sweet, but if I don't wake you up now, you're gonna be asleep out here all night." Paul's voice was quiet, but loud enough to rouse Kurt and David into confused, half-wakened states. "And if you're asleep out here all night, I'd have to wake you up by singing 'Wake Up Little Susie' tomorrow morning, and that's something neither of you want to hear, trust me on that."

David and Kurt both shook their heads in unison to see Paul standing before them with a smirk on his face. "Your mother and I just got in, David. I saw Kurt's car in the driveway and assumed you might be out here since the house seemed deserted."

"Mmm," David rubbed his eyes as stretched out an arm and shook his head again. "What time is it, Dad?" David spoke with a sleepy, slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

"It's still early," Paul answered, "Ten-after-nine."

"Hi, Mr. Karofsky."

"Nice seeing you, Kurt," Paul smiled and nodded politely.

"How was your banquet?" David voiced, scratchy-sounding.

"Boring," Paul answered. "Same as they are every year; but the food is good, and I think your mother likes them. I'm going back inside and leave you two alone."

"Thanks for waking us, Dad," David spoke as Paul returned to the inside of the house through the French doors.

Kurt sat upright on the edge of the piece of furniture, legs over the side and feet resting on the concrete foundation; David sat up as well, pulling his left leg up under himself and swinging the other around to Kurt's right side, his chest close to Kurt's back, arms around Kurt's trunk, hands meeting with Kurt's hands on the other side. Kurt stretched his arms forward, taking David's hands with his, still trying to work the drowsiness out of himself before softly leaning against David and wrapping both their arms close to him. Kurt turned his head in David's direction. David turned toward Kurt, his lips unintentionally brushing against Kurt's ear as they met unexpectedly.

Kurt chuckled lightly before speaking. "I could stay like this all night."

"Me too," David answered, and the two enjoyed the quiet sound of the other's breathing before David spoke again, quietly. "I was a little worried before, Kurt. About us. You cleared all of that up. I know it might not be easy, but at least I know that we're both committed to this. And that's what I wanted to hear."

Kurt smiled and craned his head further so his eyes could meet David's, giving him a reassuring smile as David continued to speak. "It's hard because I know we both want to go to school, and we can't be in the same place for that. I can't say I'm happy because we're going to be apart, but you at least made me feel like I shouldn't worry." As their eyes remained locked, David's face surrendered to a smile, small but genuine. "I think part of Dad's purpose in leaving us out here by ourselves was so that we could kiss each other goodnight."

"Your father is very thoughtful," Kurt whispered through a grin, "and accommodating."

"My dad gets it," David spoke quietly with an affected smug grin as he moved closer to press his lips to Kurt's.

 

**Sunday August 12**

**Kurt's move-in day**

Kurt had already made one trip to his apartment in Oberlin to deliver the majority of his necessary belongings: most of his clothes (nearly all of them were uncharacteristically casual, realizing for practical reasons that he would not need to be wowing anyone with his formal high-fashion prowess in the immediate future; and, if he did, he was an absolute wizard at accessorizing and embellishing the most humdrum of outfits into dynamic points of interest). This trip merely required the moving of his last few personal items: his skin-care products, personal grooming items, some final pieces of apparel, his laptop, and a mattress and box-spring set (the apartment was furnished and provided a twin bed frame, but it required the rest).

David was driving. The mattress and box-spring, both still in their factory wrappings, fit perfectly into the bed of his pickup truck, and David strapped a few bungee cables across the truck bed to keep them in place. The few other small items Kurt was bringing fit into the space behind the seats in the extended cab. The weather was perhaps hotter than ideal, but, with the AC running, the cab of David's truck cooled quickly. David had offered to listen to Kurt's selection of music for the two-and-a-half-hour drive, but Kurt said that he wanted David to make the choice of music. It had occurred to Kurt that, for as much as they'd have gotten to know each other over the summer, he really had no idea of the kind of music David liked.

Their mood began as bright and optimistic: small talk, conversational, sight-seeing; but as the time passed, they became less talkative. By the time they reached site of Kurt's apartment, their mood seemed almost somber.

David parked his truck on the street in front of the old house which had been divided into six small apartments: Kurt's was one of four on the ground-floor.

"This is actually a pretty amazing-looking old house," David observed while delivering his comment with an indifferent tone, almost as if feeling that some conversation needed to be made, as he busied himself with unhooking the restraining cables from the bed of the truck, thereby releasing the mattress and box-spring.

"Yes, I like it aesthetically," Kurt remarked honestly but with an equal amount of emotion.

David hoisted one end of the mattress out of the bed, and Kurt took over from him, pulling it backward from the truck bed. David picked up tthe unattended end of the mattress as it neared the edge of the bed, and both young men walked the mattress to the front door of the old house, resting it briefly on the landing at the threshold. Kurt retrieved his key and opened the front doors. The hallway was wide, which made moving the large item fairly simple. As they approached the door to Kurt's apartment, they lowered the mattress again as Kurt unlocked the door, turned the knob, and pushed the door open. The two lifted the mattress again and moved it into the apartment.

The inside of the apartment was somewhat stuffy, and, once resting the mattress on the floor, Kurt set about opening some of the windows. David looked around noting that the white walls were almost too-white, probably indicating a fresh coat of paint in the last couple of months. There were some spare furnishings around the studio-apartment layout: a built-in shelving unit; the aforementioned twin-bed frame with a nightstand; a small utilitarian dresser, chest of drawers, and mirror; a desk and chair next to a waist-high, stand-alone shelving unit; a small dining table and two chairs placed in close proximity to a small kitchen area which held an efficiency-size electric range, a full-size refrigerator, single-basin sink with two small cupboards above and below; the bathroom area was located just to the side of the bed and nightstand. The closet was half-filled with Kurt's clothing, and several unopened boxes of Kurt's unpacked belongings were stacked in the corner near the desk.

"This looks pretty-much like the apartment I'm moving into," David offered. "Do you wanna go out and get the box-spring?"

"Sure," Kurt answered, "I can get that set-up and out of the way."

The two returned to the truck-bed and lifted the box-spring and carried it into the apartment in much the same manner as they had with the mattress, though unlocking doors was not necessary this time. After placing the box-spring in the room, David returned to the truck to pull the remainder of Kurt's items from the cab, collecting and stashing the bungee cables there in the process. He returned to the apartment with Kurt's remaining items to find that Kurt had removed the plastic covering from both the mattress and box spring. David placed the last of Kurt's items, two medium-sized boxes, Kurt's laptop, a suit case, and messenger bag, near the stack of boxes.

"Ready to help me with the box spring and mattress?" Kurt asked.

David nodded a nonverbal response, immediately jumping to assist Kurt, first with the box-spring, then the mattress. "I'm going to miss my full-size bed," Kurt commented.

"I'd say the same, but you know I don't have any trouble sleeping anywhere," David offered, deadpan.

The bed was set-up and Kurt searched his boxes for sheets, pillows, and blankets while David walked around the apartment and silently observed for a moment, finally asking, "Is there some unpacking or something I can help you with?"

"No, I found what I'm looking for," Kurt said, pulling sheets and pillowcases from a cardboard box. "You can help me pull this fitted mattress pad and sheet onto the bed, though, if you like."

David, who was standing with his hands in his pockets, appearing somewhat nervous, sprung into action, appearing now almost too eager to assist. The two made short work of stretching first the mattress pad then the fitted sheet over the mattress. Kurt then attended to unfolding a top sheet and tossing his pillows onto the bed. David, once again, found himself standing in the center of the room, hands in pockets, looking around, nervously.

"I'm probably going to look around for a small couch or maybe a large chair to put in the center of the room in front of where I'll put my TV," Kurt commented, unfurling a blanket. "Eventually maybe a small entertainment center. I don't want to get too much furniture because I'll probably only be here a year."

"You could improvise a TV stand out of some cheap shelving," David offered quietly, "You could even leave that behind when you moved."

Kurt had finished dressing the bed and proceeded to close the windows. A breeze had aired the stuffiness out of the space, but it remained warm, and Kurt wanted to turn on the small air conditioning unit. "Ready to go get dinner?" Kurt asked brightly.

"Sure," David replied, forcing a smile. "What's around?"

"Well, there are a couple of bar-type-restaurant national-chain-type things around," Kurt explained, "but there's this cute diner within walking distance from here I'd like to check out."

David smiled, more convincingly this time, "Lead the way."

Kurt locked his apartment, and the two walked a block-and-a-half, turned a corner, and walked another half-block to arrive at a well-kept old building marked by a sign which read simply, 'DINER'. The two entered and took a booth toward the rear of the room; they were met by a server, a friendly middle-aged woman delivering glasses of ice water and menus to them, almost immediately. Kurt ordered a turkey club sandwich while David ordered a bacon-double cheeseburger and a side of fries. The two spoke very little through their dinner, though David did make the observation that the diner had short hours, being open only until six o'clock in the evening on Sundays and eight o'clock on weekdays though they opened every morning at five o'clock. Kurt thought this normal for small diners in a college town where they probably attracted a healthy clientele for mealtimes but little in the evenings.

As they finished dinner, Kurt observed the dessert menu touting homemade pies, and he and David decided to take a couple of slices of blackberry pie back to Kurt's apartment to eat later in the evening.

Arriving back at Kurt's apartment, the two commenced to opening boxes and sorting through Kurt's belongings: putting things into drawers and onto shelves. After about ninety minutes of time had elapsed and the sky was beginning to darken, the two sat at the small dining table and opened the clamshell box holding the pie from the diner.

Once again, they ate in near-silence with Kurt contributing compliments to the pie and David merely nodding agreement. Kurt sensed that David was troubled, and his concern was becoming more apparent.

After they finished the dessert, Kurt cleared the dishes and forks from the table, placing them into the sink. He returned to the table, pulling his chair closer to David's. David's hands were resting on the tabletop, and Kurt placed one of his hands atop David's.

"David, is everything alright?"

David shook his head and looked from their hands on the table to downward to their hands again and finally downward, coming to a rest there. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry." David's voice was high-pitched and scratchy, the words forced out around a heavy throat. "I promised myself I wouldn't do this. I wanted this night to be happy and romantic or something. This is the last time I'm going to see you for a while, and I'm fucking this up because I'm going to miss you so much." By this point, David was no longer trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

"David, you're not messing anything up," Kurt reassured as he placed a hand upon David's back, working it up to his shoulder. "I had no expectations for tonight except that I wanted to spend this night with you. Your feelings matter to me, probably more than my own. It doesn't matter much to me what we actually do tonight as long as we're together."

At this, David turned himself to face Kurt and gently wrapped his arms around him, slowly draining his eyes into Kurt's shoulder. Kurt pulled David in snuggly and rubbed his hands on David's back until David calmed.

They sat for a while at the table, eventually standing and changing into their sleep clothes. David wore a plain white T-shirt and running shorts; Kurt wore a T-shirt also but with flannel lounge pants. The room was comfortable enough to not require Kurt's blanket. Kurt lay on his back while David rested on his side, facing Kurt, their hands entwined and resting over Kurt's heart, David's head tipped close to Kurt's ear. For a long time, they lay awake, silent, and moving very little save for David gently caressing the back of Kurt's hand.

"So," David finally spoke, quietly, "you've got the Navigator parked for the semester?"

Kurt answered just as quietly. "Yes. Everything I need is within walking distance here. If I need to go to Cleveland, I can take a bus or call a cab if need be. Dad will be picking me up for the times when I want to come home to Lima." Kurt paused for a moment. "I'm pretty sure we'll be taking the Navigator to Mr. Schue's wedding."

This drew a smile out of David. "You mean you don't wanna get all dressed up and arrive in my truck?"

Kurt giggled. "I really don't much care whose car we take as long as we're together." Kurt reached his free arm around David, though the maneuver wasn't entirely easy for him, and pulled David closer. "Like right now. I really don't much care what we're doing as long as we're together."

"Yeah, well, my dad will be driving me out to Pittsburgh next weekend for my move," David began. "He's taking my truck back to Lima for the same reasons. We'll see how that works out, though. Two-and-a-half hours one-way from Lima to Oberlin is a lot easier on a driver than five hours one-way from Lima to Pittsburgh. If it seems like too much of a hassle when Mr. Schuester's wedding happens, then I'll just be returning to Pittsburgh with my truck when the weekend's over. I gotta see what my parking options are going to be also."

Kurt raised his hand, letting it rest on David's neck, softly rubbing and caressing him there. "Are you getting tired, David?" Kurt asked softly.

"Yeah," David answered, "getting there."

"A good cry will do that," Kurt softly intoned.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry, David," Kurt corrected.

"Okay, I'm not sorry," David spoke, sounding calm, after a moment.

Kurt turned his head to face David's and kissed David's forehead. David's eyes remained closed though he smiled. "Goodnight, David," Kurt whispered.

"Goodnight, Kurt," David answered as he raised his head, eyes still closed , but instinctively finding Kurt's lips with his and meeting them with a lingering kiss before dropping his head again.

 

**Monday, August 13**

When Kurt awoke, he was not altogether comfortable. He was on his back, body primarily straight. David was lying on his side in a fetal position, his head half-resting on Kurt's ribcage and legs curled upward, entangling Kurt's. The way they were situated reminded Kurt of the famous Annie Leibovitz photo of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, betraying the fetal-postured John as a needy man-child; and this disturbed Kurt slightly. The fact that bright sunlight was streaming in the windows, illuminating the living tableau made the sight more uncomfortable until Kurt looked closely at David. He'd been sweating in his sleep, which he often did: the neckband of his T-shirt was visibly moist. David's hair was in disarray: once again, a specific David sleeping-trait. Kurt couldn't see David's face from their positions, but he wished that he could: he loved the way David's face appeared as he slept.

Before long, though, David's body stirred, and a groggy hum came from deep in his throat. He straightened his body and looked up at Kurt's face. David's face appeared altogether content. Kurt reached downward to place his hands on David's shoulders while David hoisted himself slightly. "Sorry if last night was a little heavy, but I feel much better now."

Kurt smiled. "I guess a good night's sleep makes a big difference."

"Yeah," David admitted. "I feel kinda stupid for acting like I did."

"Those were honest feelings. Nothing to feel stupid about."

"Thanks," David said quietly, looking away.

"How long do you plan to stay today, David?" Kurt asked.

"Well, I don't want to be making a long drive back to Lima at night, but then, if I leave by five in the afternoon, I'll have daylight the whole way home."

"And almost all of the day here with me," Kurt grinned.

David smiled, crooked, almost cocky. "Can we eat breakfast at that diner we had dinner at yesterday?"

"Sure," Kurt answered, "Their breakfast menu looked great."

"Cool," David offered. "Are you hungry yet?"

"Not especially," Kurt answered. "You?"

"Yeah but not, like, dying or anything," David remarked as he climbed up and positioned himself on top of Kurt. Kurt's eyes bulged for a moment as he let out a quiet squeal with a smile. David smiled also, adding, "I am feeling kinda frisky right now, though."

Kurt nodded, casting his eyes up toward David. "I can see that. And I can feel that. Breakfast can wait."

Both moved toward the other, and their lips met: it was aggressive action on both their parts, a deep kiss, but it wasn't rough. When they parted, Kurt spoke. "Where did you leave my messenger bag?"

David's eyes wandered for a moment. "It's over by those boxes."

"We're going to need it. That's where I stashed the transmission fluid."

David chuckled at Kurt's euphemism. "That's cute, but maybe 'penetrating oil' is a better term?"

"I thought of that," Kurt grinned, "but I thought it sounded too obvious."

"We don't need to go the whole, like, distance," David offered, "We could just, like fool around a little."

Kurt shook his head, continuing to smile. "The next time I see you is weeks away, David. If we're going to do this, we're going to _do_ this, okay?"

David bounced his head, nodding, eyes resting on Kurt's. "Yeah." David stood from the bed and retrieved Kurt's bag.

"Just open the bag," Kurt mentioned, "It should be pretty easy to find."

David lifted the flap and, among bottles of moisturizer and tubes of boutique shaving lotions, he found the small clear plastic bottle he was seeking.

David was typically forward and playful at the onset, he'd come a distance from the physically tentative and shy demeanor he'd displayed at the beginning of the summer, but he was always incredibly conscious of his partner, perhaps to a fault. Kurt, though, was never left wanting: David's soft-touch approach was yet another of those personality traits which Kurt found to be perfectly sublime and quintessential to the David which he, and only he, knew. Of course, there was no way of overlooking the physical attributes of either Kurt or David: both young men were certainly substantial: no amount of bedroom politeness could negate the specific tangible characteristics of their bodies.

This particular time found both lying on their left sides, Kurt's back to David's chest. Though the preparatory actions were slightly awkward from this bearing, David appreciated the intimacy this position afforded: their faces next to each other, his being able to read Kurt's expressions and kiss Kurt's face, the tactile rewards of holding hands and touching. The posture wasn't terribly acrobatic either, suiting itself to a first activity of the day. David comfortably built to a solid rhythm, ultimately mechanical with a seemingly metronomic accuracy, though he was ever-conscious of Kurt. Occasionally, Kurt, face flushed and lips red, would increase his own movement's tempo and strength, consciously deepening the penetration, giving David the unspoken invitation to increase the intensity of his actions. David pulled himself closer and increased his speed, resting his head, nearly pushing it down against Kurt's; reaching for and stroking Kurt with a slick, lubricated hand. Since even their earliest encounters together, David was always mindful of bringing Kurt to climax; this morning was no exception. Kurt's body stiffened, signalling his approach. David kept his rate steady, but turned his face to kiss Kurt, first his ear, then his cheek, then stretching his neck to reach Kurt's lips, agape without words or sounds. Kurt's body quaked. And again. Though his eyes were closed, David felt Kurt's repeating shudder and the warm liquid slickening his right hand further. It wasn't long, less than a minute, before David released as well, punctuating the extended moment by meeting Kurt's lips with his, long and deep.

The two lay embraced for some time, silent at first, moving subtly, caressing. soft kisses, shifting their bodies together.

"I'm glad we had that, David."

"Me too," David agreed, quietly. "I was a little disappointed that it didn't happen last night."

"Don't be," Kurt retorted softly. "If it didn't happen at all, it would have been okay. I understand the way you were feeling last night. It's the way that your mind works, the full sweep of what you're feeling that makes you so amazing to me." Kurt paused for a moment before adding, with a smirk, "That said, it was awesome."

David smiled wide, pulling Kurt closer and kissing his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, David," Kurt returned as he twisted himself to face David.

The two lingered on each other's faces before David spoke again. "So what's next on our agenda for the day?"

Kurt's face formed a thinking expression before he catalogued, "Shower together, go out for breakfast, walk around the campus to find the buildings and rooms for my schedule, stuff like that." Kurt paused. "Grab late lunch or dinner later on. Eventually get back here."

"You don't want me to help you unpack some more?" David questioned.

"No, I can do that myself," Kurt answered, "That's boring."

David smiled and looked away for a moment. "Can we get back here early enough so you can do that for me? You know, what we just did?"

Kurt smirked again, slightly wicked, nodding. "Sure."

The day followed Kurt's brief summary. The weather was perfect: dry and clear, warm without being hot; and the walk around the campus was rewarding. Though sprawling, nothing was an uncomfortable walking distance from Kurt's apartment; the buildings and classrooms themselves were old and interesting. Kurt seemed enthusiastic about a music composition course he'd be taking, having never delved into that aspect of his interests previously. Kurt also mentioned that he planned to continue his routine of running in the morning as the campus grounds were flat and conducive to such activity, though he did verbally lament the absence of his favorite running partner.

By two o'clock, Kurt and David had returned to the apartment. Though their afternoon encounter had been planned earlier, it felt organic and natural when it happened. At the onset, Kurt, much like David, was conscious of his partner's sensitivity. As the activity progressed, however, Kurt always channelled an energy and intensity that initially surprised both of them. Though Kurt was in the top position less frequently than David, he was adept: he was stronger than one would imagine, his form was lithe and agile, and his normally self-conscious public veneer succumbed to an almost primitive fervor. Kurt became an aggressive animalistic machine; the expressions David's face answered to the movement left Kurt with no doubt that David was built for this: he could take it, he was _built_ to take it, and he wanted it that way from Kurt. The two lost time as their eyes locked: David's one of a person lost in the sweep of the moment, Kurt's one of intense determination. Ultimately Kurt climaxed first, but, still rigid, continued his actions through aftershocks and spasms until, assisted by Kurt's wet hand, David followed with an expression of near pain and a squeal.

As they cooled, Kurt rested on his side, head on David's chest. David's arm wrapped around Kurt, pulling their sweaty bodies softly together. They were motionless for some time, save for the rise and fall of their breathing, nearly synchronized.

"It's not three-thirty yet," David spoke quietly. "We can grab a shower and go get dinner."

Kurt remained silent for the immediate until David shifted his arm, coaxing Kurt to face him. David smiled, small but perfectly content, and pulled Kurt close, meeting Kurt's lips with his.

"That was incredible, Kurt," David whispered.

"You like that?" Kurt remarked, a hint of uncertainty.

"It's you," David answered. "What's not to like? What's not to _love_?"

David sat upright, pulling Kurt with him, addressing Kurt's eyes with his. "I'm going to miss you, and that's a little sad," David began. "But, I know that's how it needs to be right now, and I'll deal with it."

Kurt nodded, face spreading into a smile. "I'm going to miss you too, David."

Kurt pulled himself close, leaning his head into David's chest as David wrapped his arms snuggly around Kurt and held him.

 

**Friday, August 17**

**David's move-in day**

Paul and David were up and moving early. Paul had taken the day off of work to ride with David and help move him into his apartment in Pittsburgh, afterwhich Paul would drive David's truck back to Lima. The truck was packed with David's boxed belongings, and the two were on the road at nine o'clock. Lorraine packed a small cooler for their lunch; they would eat sometime after arriving at their destination, nearly five hours away. David drove the entire way as Paul would be tasked with the return drive.

They arrived at David's apartment and were able to find a convenient parking space on the street nearby. Rather than transporting a mattress and box-spring as Kurt had done, David had opted to have them delivered; and they were waiting for him, boxed and in the hallway, when they arrived.

Like Kurt's apartment, David's was part of an old, converted house. The structure wasn't quite as quaint-looking as Kurt's, but it was very clean and the layout of David's apartment was much the same as Kurt's, excepting that David's refrigerator was a small dorm-style model. Paul and Lorraine had bought David a small microwave oven, toaster, and coffee maker. Paul and David had just finished setting up the bed when Paul decided to remove the small appliances from their boxes as David busied himself unpacking other items.

"Kinda hilly around here," Paul observed.

"Yeah, there are a lot more hills around here than there are anywhere in Ohio," David answered with a smirk. "What did Mom pack for lunch?"

"I don't know, probably some sandwiches or something," Paul offered. "I'm hungry, though. I could eat right now."

David approached the cooler which they had placed onto the dining table and opened it while Paul observed from a short distance away in the kitchen area. David nearly began to laugh at what the contents revealed. "Cold pizza! She packed us the leftover cold pizza from last night!"

Paul smirked cynically as he approached. "She's onto us."

David unwrapped two large, foil-wrapped packages, handing one to Paul. "You need a plate?" David offered. "Might take me a few to track down the paper plates I brought."

Paul grinned and shook his head. "This is fine. We've got foil. What do we need a plate for?"

David snickered agreement as he wrestled a slice free and bit into it.

As the two finished eating, David noted, "It's almost three o'clock."

"Hmm?" Paul hummed.

"You should probably be getting back on the road soon," David opined. "Don't want to be making a long drive after dark. I don't want you nodding off behind the wheel or something."

"I'll be okay," Paul spoke softly. "I'll stop and get coffee if I have to. I can stay a while and help you unpack."

David smiled at the offer. "Dad, I have days to do that. You're probably going to be tired when you get back on the road after helping me move all this stuff; plus driving can be tiring unto itself."

Paul nodded, his expression betraying melancholy.

"What's wrong, Dad?"

Paul shook his head. "Nothing."

"Dad?" David pressed.

"David, I'm sad. I'm going to miss you. We used to be so close. You were my little buddy, and then that teenage-rebellion thing happened and we grew apart, but now we're close again. Your mother and I are going to miss having you around."

David slid his chair closer to Paul and sat beside him, resting his arm on Paul's back. "Dad, you're not losing me. You're always going to have me. So, I'm going to school, and we're living five hours apart. You're still the most incredible person I've ever had in my life."

Paul smiled for a moment. "Thank you. And I know that this is necessary. It doesn't mean I can't miss you, David."

"Dad, you made a promise to me when I was in the hospital back in February. You promised that I wouldn't lose you. You kept good on that, and I'm telling you now that you're not going to lose me."

"I know all that, David." Paul's words were shaky, marked with a quiet rasp.

David reached around his father's shoulders and drew him close. "Dad, if you start crying, I'm gonna lose it too."

The two held each other in silence for a time, no words, barely audible breathing, an occasional moist-sounding breath. David could feel the chill of Paul's tears on his shoulder, seeping through his T-shirt. Paul finally composed himself and pulled away from David who reached to his eyes to wipe away tears of his own.

Paul's gaze was cast downward as David spoke, looking at him. Paul's eyes rose to meet David's.

"Dad, I'm going to have a big favor to ask of you sometime in the future. It's years away, and it might not even happen for that matter, but remember this: if I should ask you for a big favor sometime some years from now, I'm going to remind you of this moment. I can't tell you more than that until then; but it's gonna be...hugely important to me."

Paul nodded at David with watery eyes and a hinted smile. "Okay," Paul spoke quietly, scratchy, "I'll remember."

"You can stay for a while, but I think you should get back on the road soon," David remarked.

"I think you're probably right," Paul said as he stood from his seat; David followed, standing as well.

"Take it easy. Stop at rest stops if you need to. Stop for coffee often, Call me if you need to. Call me if you want to." David paused for a moment. "I love you, Dad."

Paul smiled and slowly pulled David toward him into an embrace. "I love you too. And your mom loves you."

"Send Mom my love as well, Dad."

 

**Wednesday, September 5**

Voicemail message from David, Wednesday September 5, 11:13 AM  
 _Hey, Kurt. Sorry to bother you so early in the day. I'm all outta sorts today. Call me back when you can. I just want to hear your voice. Call me when you can. Please._

Voicemail message from Kurt, Wednesday September 5, 1:10 PM  
 _Hello, David. It's me, Kurt. It sounds like you're really down; and I hope it's not anything really bad, but you have me worried. You called while I was in class, and I'm guessing that you're in class now. I'll call back tonight when I normally do unless you get back to me first or I get back to you first. I do have kind-of a great story to tell you about some people I met today, but I'll save that for later. For now, bye, and I miss you._

David was back in his apartment by seven-thirty, still waiting to hear from Kurt. He was at his desk, working through a Physics assignment when his phone sounded an incoming call.

"Hello, Kurt," David voiced, low-pitched but trying to sound more upbeat than he felt.

"Hi, David," Kurt answered. "Are you okay? Your message had me concerned."

"Oh, I dunno," David muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel like a mess," David answered bluntly. "I feel so alone. I don't know anybody. I don't feel like I have a connection to the people around me. I miss my parents and my friends something terrible." David paused for a moment before adding, "And I miss you, Kurt, it's like I have a hole in me or something."

Kurt remained silent, not knowing how to react.

David continued. "I know that's how it is right now, and I know I gotta deal with it. That doesn't make it any better."

"David," Kurt finally spoke, "I miss you too, and I wish we weren't so far apart; but, like you said, we just have to deal with it for now." Kurt exhaled audibly. "It's not like it's going to be like this forever."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," David answered. "I don't know why I feel like this today. I mean, you and I talked last night, and everything felt alright. I just woke up today, though, feeling like everything just terrible, like this is my life right now."

"David, have you tried making friends with people in your classes or something?"

"Like I said, I don't feel like I have any connection to them. I mean, I'm as smart as they are and I'm keeping up with the work, but they all seem, like, so different than me. They're all these really intense sciencey-kinda people. I don't know what I'd even strike up a conversation about."

"Have you tried, maybe," Kurt hesitated for a moment, "is there, like, an athletic club or something?"

"Yeah," David began again. "Yeah, I've been using the weight room and running and stuff, but I don't really talk to anyone beyond, like, 'hello'. The thing is that I'm still afraid. I'm afraid of what people might feel about me if they really knew me."

"David, you're not giving yourself enough credit; and you're maybe not giving other people enough credit either. Remember how you made friends with unlikely people at Thurston? And remember how accepting they were of you? Maybe you could look outside the people in that immediate circle. Maybe there's something you could become involved with outside the school. I mean, you've only been there a few weeks. Have you even tried to do anything like that?"

"No," David answered, somewhat quiet. "There is a really great library connected with the school, so I've been reading a lot. They've got a really nice art museum and natural history museum, but there's only so many times I can do that."

"Is the workload getting you down?" Kurt asked.

"No, actually, that's been the best thing for me," David answered, sounding slightly more positive. "When I get down, I just bury myself in my work. I'm actually ahead in several of my classes."

"Have you tried calling your dad or some of your other friends?" Kurt asked.

"No," David responded, sounding almost guilty. "When I get like this, the only person I want to talk to is you, it's like I don't want them to see that part of me."

Silence hung on the phone for a time until David said, "In that message you left before, you said that there was something you wanted to tell me?" He sounded almost hesitant, as if the story, whatever it was, might cause him additional anxiety.

Kurt cleared his throat, sounding somewhat enthusiastic suddenly. "Well, remember the shirt you gave me? The one from the PFLAG meeting? The one that says _'CHOKE ON IT, HATERS'_?"

David chuckled. "Yeah, of course."

"Well, I was wearing it today, and two guys in my interpretive dance class asked me where I got it. I told them that I got it at a PFLAG meeting in Lima, and that I am originally from Lima. They got all excited and said, 'Oh my god, have you met Dave Karofsky?' They started going on about that commencement video and how they wanted to go to that meeting in Lima; and I said, 'David Karofsky is my boyfriend.' Then I pulled out my phone and showed them pictures of us."

David smiled, eventually succumbing to a laugh. "Wow. Just...wow."

"I told them a little more about how you are going to school in Pittsburgh, and they went on about how they were familiar with your history project. They also said, after seeing your picture on my phone, that you're really cute. They couldn't see much in that commencement video."

“I’m cute,” David mumbled sarcastically and chuckled again in response.

"They said we look great together."

"We do," David replied quietly but with certainty.

The two hung in silence on the phone for a while, a changed silence, a silence marked this time with a warmth rather than an unease.

"Sing to me?" David asked, quietly, politely.

"What do you want me to sing?" Kurt asked, sounding as if caught off-guard.

“I don't care," David replied through a crooked smile. "Sing anything you want to."

Kurt was silent for a moment until he began, quietly but in strong, audible voice.

_There were bells on a hill_  
 _But I never heard them ringing_  
 _No, I never heard them at all_  
 _Till there was you_  
 _There were birds in the sky_  
 _But I never saw them winging_  
 _No, I never saw them at all  
_ _Till there was you_

_Then there was music and wonderful roses_  
 _They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows  
_ _Of dawn and dew_

_There was love all around_  
 _But I never heard it singing_  
 _No, I never heard it at all  
_ _Till there was you_

"Thanks," David spoke so quietly as to almost be imperceptible. "Beatles."

"Actually," Kurt began, "It's from _The Music Man_."

"Mmm?" David muttered.

Kurt explained. "Yes, the Beatles recorded a hit version, but it's from the musical, _The Music Man_. It was written by Meredith Wilson."

David grinned, shaking his head. "Here all along I assumed it was a Lennon-McCartney song."

"Learn something new every day," Kurt said through an audible smile. "Are you going to sing something for me now?"

"Uhhhh," David muttered. "I don't sing."

"You can make an exception for _me_ , though, can't you?"

"Uhhmmm..."

" _Come on_ ," Kurt sounded pleading but good-natured. "Please?"

"Okay, but if this isn't good, don't laugh at me or something," David added, conditionally.

"David I would never do that."

"I know, I... just... don't sing, but I'm going to right now," David conceded. "Feel privileged, maybe."

David drew a long breath and began. His voice wasn't trained, at least not like Kurt's, but he carried the simple melody at a low conversational volume.

_How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing?_  
 _How can I go forward when I don't know which way to turn?_  
 _How can I go forward into something I'm not sure of?  
_ _Oh no_

_How can I have feeling if I don't know if it's a feeling?_  
 _How can I have feel something if I just don't know how to feel?_  
 _How can I have feelings when my feelings have always been denied?  
_ _Oh no_

_You know life can be long_  
 _And you've got to be so strong_  
 _And the world is so tough  
_ _Sometimes I feel I've had enough_

_How can I give love when I don't know what it is I'm giving?_  
 _How can I give love when I just don't know how to give?_  
 _How can I give love when love is something I ain't never had?  
_ _Oh no_

Neither spoke until Kurt, in a small, almost trembling voice said, "That was beautiful, David."

David smiled. "Cool. Gretchen turned me onto John Lennon, sorta. I used to think about that song a lot. Like last fall and winter."

David could hear Kurt sniff from the other end before Kurt said, "I can see that, I can see how that song would have meant something to you at that time."

"Well, yeah, the lyrics really hit me at the time," David said. "They're really direct. Maybe it doesn't apply to me any longer, but I still think it's a great song."

"Thank you, David." Kurt's voice was small and trembling; David puzzled at the possibility that Kurt was possibly crying. "You made my day. I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt," David replied, "And you made my day also."

"I should probably get going, but don't hesitate to call me for any reason," Kurt offered.

"Well, hopefully, days like today won't be too common," David offered, "and we talk every night anyway."

"And I look forward to hearing your voice every night," Kurt expanded. "Goodnight, David."

"Goodbye, Kurt. Goodnight."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced songs:
> 
> "Till There Was You" from The Music Man written by Meredith Wilson and famously recorded by the Beatles, among others
> 
> "How" by John Lennon


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 11,000

**Chapter 39**

  **Saturday, September 15**

David placed his hand lightly on Kurt's shoulder as the two of them exited the banquet hall, waving and smiling goodbyes as they departed. David's touch was light, but it was no longer uncertain: he knew that if he wanted to publicly lay his hand on Kurt's shoulder or embrace Kurt or hold Kurt's hand or dance with Kurt as he'd done a few times in the last several hours, he could do so without any resistance from Kurt or, just as importantly, any hesitance from himself; and, ultimately, the opinions of others simply were no longer part of that particular equation.

The two stepped out of the foyer into the crisp-though-pleasant night air. Once in the darker area of the parking lot, David's touch on Kurt's shoulder became firmer, more pronounced; David shifted himself so the two were walking side-by-side as opposed to the single-file formation with which they exited the building.

"It's still early," David spoke a slight anxiety to his voice.

Kurt turned his head to face David with a reassuring expression. "Yes, it's only eight o'clock, but the wedding crowd was beginning to thin. And, besides, I'm also the designated driver for Dad and Carole, and too much fun might have been bad for Dad's heart." At this, Kurt moved himself closer into David as they both walked; David responded by curling his arm further around Kurt and chuckling to himself. "Plus, once I drop Dad and the stepmom off at home, I want to have some time with my boyfriend," Kurt spoke more quietly as David chuckled again and pulled Kurt closer still, "you know, I haven't seen him in over a month." With this, Kurt nudged David playfully in the ribs with this elbow.

Both David and Kurt looked great, and they were told as much several times during the course of the Schuester wedding ceremony and reception. David was wearing a traditional black two-piece suit with a black shirt and solid coral-colored necktie; Kurt's suit was a dynamic, less conventional cut with accentuated shoulders, a fitted profile, and form-fitting legs in a burgundy color with a dark-violet banded-collared shirt.

"I'd kiss you right here, but your parents are probably watching for us," David whispered at Kurt as they approached Kurt's Navigator.

Kurt looked at David's face, addressing David's flirty sideways glance. "I really don't think they'd mind, but we'll have time for all of that later tonight."

Burt and Carole were already seated in the back of Kurt's car when David and Kurt opened the front doors. Kurt seated himself behind the wheel as David climbed into the passenger side.

"Did you boys have a good time at Will and Emma's wedding?" Carole asked loudly, alcohol consumption showing slightly, adding, "We sure did!"

David and Kurt chattered affirmative responses to Carole's question as Burt leaned forward and patted both young men on their shoulders, loudly speaking, "My boys looked great out on the dancefloor together."

David laughed and began, "I didn't really dance all that much."

"No, you didn't," Carole agreed, "but you both looked great when you were dancing together, and you both look great together."

David smiled and was about to speak when it hit him: Burt referred to Kurt and him as 'his boys'. David smiled slightly, dumbstruck, as Kurt steered the car out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Kurt glanced in David's direction, noticing his lack of response and nervous posture. He reached his hand for David's, needing to brush his hand against David's thigh to get him take notice. David's smile became more definite as he let Kurt take his hand: the action relieved his brief pause.

"The song you sang was lovely, Kurt," Carole commented.

"Yeah, I guess that was in French, huh?" Burt asked, loud, clumsy, and slightly drunk.

"Thank you, Carole," Kurt answered, "Yes, Dad, it was a French love song called _'On n'a pas besoin'_ which translates to 'there's no need,' and it basically says that you don't need to look far to find love and happiness."

"Well, it was a... damned good song for a wedding," Burt commented, loud and boisterous.

"It was really nice, Kurt," David agreed quietly. "It stood out. It wasn't, like, a slow ballad like the stuff it seemed like everyone else was singing. I was kinda surprised to hear all of you singing at the wedding like that."

Kurt glanced a grin in David's direction. "It was our wedding gift to Mr. and Mrs. Schue, all the glee club members from the time when he took over to now."

"That's really cool," David offered, "makes it a personal gift, better than all of you chipping-in and buying them a food processor or something."

"And ya all sounded great," Burt boomed from the back seat again causing both Kurt and David to chuckle under their breath.

"And we didn't _all_ sing ballads," Kurt corrected. "Finn sang 'I Feel Fine' by the Beatles, Puck did that Jason Mraz song, Sam did that Rascal Flatts song..."

David interjected, "The Rascal Flatts song is a ballad, and a really cheesy one at that."

Kurt snickered. "Okay, you got me. It was a given that Mercedes would sing Whitney and Rachel would sing Barbra."

"I didn't even know that song Rachel sang," David uttered, almost under his breath.

"'Evergreen'," Kurt spoke. "It's one of Barbra Streisand's signature songs."

"Ah."

"Mrs. Pillsbury-Shuester requested it," Kurt informed. David nodded while Kurt held his hand loosely, invisible to Kurt's father and stepmother in the back seat. A few moments of complete silence passed. Conspicuous silence. Kurt was pretty sure that his slightly drunk dad and stepmom were making out in the back seat. A tilt of his head and glance into the rearview mirror confirmed this suspicion, and he began to silently chuckle.

David glanced toward Kurt with a curious grin. Kurt's eyes motioned in the direction of the back seat, then to his rearview mirror. Connection made: David shook his head and grinned wide, casting his gaze to the floor, then sideways-glancing back at Kurt. The two remained quiet, though they both wondered if it might be more polite to continue to talk as if nothing was going on.

"Um, that '1, 2, 3, 4' song that the whole glee club did was kinda nice," David offered, sounding very self-conscious.

"Uh, yeah," Kurt affectedly answered, "and Quinn did the Shania Twain song, another ballad." Kurt's voice became slightly louder. "I guess you're right, David. I guess there _were_ a lot of ballads."

"And Blaine sang 'The Electric Slide'," David added, causing both himself and Kurt to erupt into simultaneous fits of laughter.

"I guess," Kurt struggled to get the words out between laughs and gasps, "because no one else wanted to sing it, and Blaine can't turn down a solo."

"Oh, _hey_ ," Burt's voice rang from the back seat, abruptly as if suddenly aware they'd been busted. "Dave, you and your parents are invited to our place tomorrow morning for breakfast. It's great that everybody's around again for a change, and we should get everyone together."

"I'll call my parents when we get to your place," David mentioned. "I don't see why they wouldn't be able to make it. Hey, my dad says that you're still meeting them most weekend mornings at the park to walk."

"Yeah, that's true," Carole answered, "though we told them ahead of time not to expect us at the park tomorrow morning with us not knowing how late we'd be occupied tonight."

"We're getting back early," Burt protested, "we could make it."

"Oh, shush, you," Carole scolded Burt, good naturedly.

Kurt slowed as he turned the car into the driveway at the Hummel residence. He parked the car and He and David climbed out first then opened the doors to the back seat, helping Burt and Carole out and walking them to the front door.

"Why, Dave," Carole commented as David offered him her hand to walk her to the door, "you are a perfect gentleman."

David smiled and responded, "It's dark, and I don't want you to fall and hurt yourself."

The four people stopped at the landing to the front door as Burt unlocked the deadbolt, and Kurt spoke.

"It's early. David and I were going to go back out for a while. If I'm not in before midnight, I'll call and let you know where I am and when you can expect me."

Burt and Carole smiled at each other and nodded as Burt turned to speak to the two young men. "Okay, kiddo, and, um, Dave. Have yourselves a good time. Probably want some time together without so much adult supervision. Just, like you said, be back before midnight, and let us know if you won't be. Finn said he'd be back by midnight also."

"Thanks, Dad. See you soon."

"Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel."

Kurt and David returned to the Navigator and sat for a moment before Kurt asked, "Any ideas, David?"

"Eh, let me call my parents and tell them about breakfast tomorrow," David replied. "Then, well, if you're up for it, Strando knows I'm in town and said he'd like to see me if you're up for hanging with that crowd for a while tonight."

Kurt smiled. "Sounds like fun. You were with my crowd at the wedding; now we can spend some time with your friends. "Kurt started the ignition and backed the car onto the road, turning, and setting it in motion.

David spoke to his father for a few minutes, gaining an affirmative to the breakfast invitation; he then dialed Chris Strando and spoke with him, also for a few minutes, before ending the call.

"Where am I driving us?" Kurt asked.

"Just Strando's place," David answered. "His parents are away, and some of the guys are hanging out there with him. You remember how to get there?"

"Of course, David," Kurt answered sarcastically. "It's only been a little over a month." Kurt paused before asking, "So, what's Chris doing this fall since school ended?"

"He's going to the community college to beef up his credits," David informed. "He's planning to go to OSU main next fall. Meanwhile, he's working part-time loading and unloading trucks for a shipping company."

"I really don't know much about Chris other than what I picked up from the parties last summer," Kurt admitted, "and the little I knew of him while we were still in school. 

"He's not a dumb guy, but he's kinda like I was in my sophomore and junior years." David described. "He never really applied himself. With Strando, though, it was because he didn't care and was just into partying. With me, I had some definite issues to work on."

"Chris was really great with me last year in school," Kurt mentioned.

"Let me tell you about Strando," David expanded, "If he's your friend, you have, like, the most faithful, dependable friend you could ever want."

Kurt nodded and smiled giving David an agreeing glance. "Kind-of like you, David."

David nodded and smiled, looking away.

"Did I tell you how great you look tonight, David?" Kurt asked.

David grinned and threw his gaze back at Kurt. "Yes, you told me many times already, but it's something I won't get tired of hearing." David reached his hand out, offering it to Kurt. "You look awesome too, just amazing," David said addressing Kurt directly as Kurt reached and took David's hand.

Kurt parked on the street in front of Chris's house and shut down the engine. David unfastened his seatbelt and began to speak. "I don't know if I really feel like being here very long. I mean, I wanna see Strando, but I'd like to have some time alone with you before we..."

David felt Kurt's hands grip him as Kurt nearly launched himself over from the driver's seat to meet David's lips with his. David, though stunned, welcomed the action, lifting his hands to hold the sides of Kurt's face. As they pulled apart, Kurt whispered, "I have been wanting to kiss you all day, and we just hadn't had the opportunity to do that, and you weren't leaving this vehicle until I did."

David smiled and nodded, facing downward. "I've been wanting to kiss you too. I just wasn't expecting you to attack me like that, but I liked it."

The two climbed from Kurt's car and walked up to the house where Chris's friend Brandon met them at the door.

"Hey, Karofsky! Hey, Kurt!" Brandon greeted the two enthusiastically as he held the door open, ushering them into the house. "Looking good, guys," Brandon commented as he patted each of them on the back as they entered.

"Thanks, Brandon," David smiled, "Good to see you."

Kurt chimed as well. "Thank you, Brandon. David and I were at Mr. Schuester's and Miss Pillsbury's wedding."

Brandon led Kurt and David to Chris's family room where there was a gathering of people. Chris stood immediately and took in the image of David and Kurt. "Whoa! Check out these finely-dressed fellas! You two look _great_."

"Hey, Strando, thanks," David said as Chris wrapped him into a rough hug.

"Damn, I miss my Karofsky," Chris growled.

"Miss you too, Strando," David answered through a chuckle as Chris released him.

"Gimme some love, Hummel," Chris spoke as he reached out and wrapped Kurt in a similar-though-less-aggressive hold.

"Thanks, Chris," Kurt spoke, smiling and patting Chris on his back, "Good to see you too."

David and Kurt scanned the room, greeting four other young men in attendance with words and gestures; a small group of young ladies exchanged nods with them also.

"Hey guys," a sassy girl's voice spoke from behind. David and Kurt spun quickly to see two familiar, smirking faces.

"Gretchen! Johnno!" David smiled with surprise. "What are you two doing here?"

"Well, we hung out with you and your McKinley friends over the summer," Gretchen explained, "and I run into Chris out at the community college, so, we all get together sometimes."

"Well, it's great to see both of you," David said as Gretchen pulled him downward for a hug.

Gretchen released and gave a greeting-hug to Kurt as well while David and Johnno exchanged brisk handshakes and hellos.

"How are things at Thurston?" David asked Johnno, still locked in a handshake, but pulling him into a sort-of half-hug with his left arm.

Johnno nodded and shrugged. "Same, I guess. I'm still working out and I've joined some academic clubs and stuff. No more teams for me, though, not after what happened to you."

"I appreciate that, Johnno," Dave offered. "I guess things are good with you and Gretchen?"

Johnno smiled in his answer. "Yep. And you and Kurt?"

David smiled and shook his head. "Yeah, Kurt's great."

"Hey, either of you want anything?" Chris spoke loudly from the side of the room which led to the kitchen. "Beer? There's pizza in the other room."

"We were at a wedding," Kurt said as he rolled his eyes, "I don't think we could eat any more if we tried."

"Do you mind if I have a beer or two?" David asked Kurt quietly.

Kurt shot a creased-brow smile back at David. "I don't mind at all. I'm driving, and you should have a good time with your friends while you're in town."

David turned and addressed Chris. "Hey, Strando, yeah, I'll have a beer? And do you have any kinda, like, diet soda for Kurt?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I got something like that. Meanwhile, make yourselves comfortable, and have a seat if you can find one." With that, Chris disappeared into the kitchen.

David and Kurt found a place to sit next to each other on an unoccupied couch as Gretchen and Johnno seated themselves beside them.

"You people get together often?" David asked as Kurt looked on, interested.

"Probably just about every weekend," Gretchen replied.

"Sometimes we get together at the park to pick up football games," Johnno added as Chris returned from the kitchen with a bottle of beer and a glass of diet cola. Chris handed the beer to David and the glass of soda to Kurt; they thanked Chris as Johnno continued. "I do kinda miss playing football, but that kinda makes up for it."

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"Ah, y'know," Johnno answered, "getting together at the park and picking up games."

"Oh, yeah," Chris's face brightened. "When you come back for the Thanksgiving break, we gotta get a game goin', Karofsky."

"I'm up for that," David smiled as he downed a mouthful of beer before turning to Kurt and asking more quietly, "You think you'd be up for that?"

"Sure, I'm in," Kurt replied, "as long as things don't get out-of-hand; and as long as you and I are on the same team."

David snickered into a huge grin and nudged Kurt playfully with his elbow adding, "But I won't be able to tackle you if we're on the same team."

Chris broke away, walking to the center of the room to retrieve a female guest and returning a moment later. "Hey, I'd like you two to meet Natalie," Chris said as he introduced a petite, auburn-haired, fair-skinned young woman. "Natalie, this is Dave and Kurt. I usually call Dave by his last name, Karofsky."

David and Kurt smiled and nodded, speaking as the girl spoke back with a tentative smile and a subtle-though-definite accent. "Nice to meet you, Kurt and... Ka-rofsky. Chris has told me about you."

David shot an inquisitive smile first at the girl then at Chris who proceeded to explain. "She's from Russia. Her family just moved here about a year ago. She's going to Allen County Community College also."

"Very cool," David nodded and smiled at Natalie.

"Nice to meet you, Natalie," Kurt spoke before standing and asking, "Is there a bathroom nearby?"

"Oh sure," Chris spoke, and pointed toward the stairs.

"I can show him," Natalie spoke in her charming, slightly-colored English as she smiled and took Kurt's hand.

As Kurt and Natalie departed, Chris, bottle of beer in hand, sat next to David in the space vacated by Kurt.

"So, you going out with that Natalie girl?" David asked Chris.

"Yeah," Chris answered, sounding somewhat uncertain.

"How long?"

"Just a couple of weeks. Nothing serious or anything. Just someone to hang out with who's not a dude."

David smirked. "She's cute. She looks really young, Strando."

"She's sixteen, but she's really smart," Chris explained. "She tested out of high school, and she's in college. Technically a high school grad." Strando paused before speaking again, a sarcastic confrontational expression on his face, "I know, go ahead and ask me why she's going out with me if she's cute and intelligent."

David laughed and shook his head. "I would never ask something like that, Strando. I think you're a pretty awesome guy. I'm probably not the only person that can see that. And, look at me and Kurt. People probably think we have nothing in common, but we're good for each other."

"Things going well with you and Kurt, then?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, definitely," David answered. "I mean, we're apart from each other, living in different cities. I'm not doing so well with being alone, but knowing he's there and just hearing his voice or getting a text message from him really helps me out."

"That's cool," Chris said before chuckling with a huge smirk. "I guess it wouldn't be quite as welcome if I called you, huh?"

"Naw, man," David seemed embarrassed. "That's totally not what I meant. You're one of my best friends, and I love you dearly."

"I gotcha, Karofsky," Chris laughed. "I'm just clownin' with ya. I respect what you have with Hummel. You had to go through something I never did, and I can never know how that felt. I might have been able to help you with it as one of your best friends, and as your friend, I'm gonna give you all the support I can; but I can't know your situation like Kurt does. I get that." At that, Chris held his bottle, tipping it toward David, and David tapped his bottle against it. "What are we drinking to?" Chris asked.

David placed his hand on Chris's shoulder. "We're drinking to amazing friends."

Chris and David each drank from their bottles and swallowed before David spoke again. "I do take some pride and contentment knowing that I've helped Kurt with some things also. Hopefully, I can be as good for him as he is for me."

At this Chris held out his bottle toward David again, and again David tapped his bottle against it. "What are we drinking to this time?" David asked.

Chris grinned his response: "We're drinking to you being an amazing boyfriend to your amazing boyfriend."

David laughed humbly as both Chris and he returned their bottles to their mouths. David turned his head to the rest of the room to see that Kurt had returned and was standing next to Natalie, Gretchen, and Johnno. The three were involved in a conversation and were conversing loudly, laughing occasionally, but David couldn't discern any of the words. He leaned toward Chris and spoke. "I don't know how long Kurt and I will be hanging out tonight, but I definitely wanted to see you while I was in."

"No problem," Chris said, shaking his head. "I'm glad I got to see you. You should come and at least talk to the other guys for a while."

"Yeah, I'll do that right now," David said as he stood from the couch and walked toward the four young men and a few girls gathered at the center of the room, standing approximately in a circle.

Chris supplied David with a second beer as Johnno then Kurt, Gretchen, and Natalie joined the group in conversation also. It was not long, though, before David's second beer had been exhausted and Kurt and David were saying their farewells to the others.

"Hey, Kurt," David spoke as he and Kurt approached the Navigator. "My jacket's getting to me. Mind if I throw it in the back seat?"

"No, absolutely not," Kurt spoke as he unlocked the doors with his keychain remote, "Go right ahead."

David slid out of his jacket and opened the back door of the car. Kurt didn't notice at first, but when he did, he made his way over to David's side. "Oh. My. Word." Kurt cornered David in the opened car door.

David looked up, eyes wide and oblivious, at Kurt's face. "What?"

"Suspenders. Sexy." The words left Kurt's mouth with almost a sneer as he cast his eyes down David's form then upward again.

"You think so?" David spoke quietly with a smirk. "Thanks. Gretchen suggested I wear them to that Homecoming Dance last year. They never occurred to me until then."

The two stood, Kurt nearly staring down until David spoke again.

"Uh, can I toss my jacket on the back seat?"

Kurt nodded and backed away enough for David to lean into the backseat; then launched himself into the backseat on top of David.

"What are you doing?" David laughed, trying to turn himself to face Kurt.

"Mmmmm," Kurt replied, pressing his lips to David's neck and cheek. "I am attacking my sexy man in the backseat of my car. His suspenders pushed me over the edge."

David continued laughing. "I'm way too tall for backseat action. At least let me get turned around so I can face you."

Kurt lifted himself slightly, enough for David to roll himself face-up and onto his back. David reached up and placed his hands on Kurt's upper arms as Kurt lowered himself to David's lips. David's hands reached further, around Kurt's back to rest on his shoulderblades. As their lips parted, Kurt lifted himself enough for the two to take in each other's face.

David grinned and spoke. "You realize that we're making out in the back of your car, the door is hanging open, our legs are hanging out, we're in a strange neighborhood, somebody's probably watching, and they're gonna be shocked when they see two dudes emerge from the back of the car, having just made out with each other."

"And your point is?" Kurt sassed before adding, "I don't live in this neighborhood, so what do I care?"

"We've got, I think, about an hour and a half before we seriously gotta think about getting either of us back home," David informed. "It's not quite ten o'clock." David paused for a moment, eyes locked on Kurt's. "I want some alone time with you. Comfortable alone time."

Kurt grinned and lowered himself to David again, kissing him quickly before speaking. "You make a very compelling argument. I want the man I love to be comfortable, and, you're right, this isn't the most hospitable of surroundings. Maybe the gameroom at your parents' house?"

"I think that would work." David rose to meet Kurt's lips again, longer this time, before both exited the backseat of the Navigator.

They climbed into the front seats and held hands for most of the ride to the Karofsky residence.

"I really wish I could spend the night with you tonight, Kurt," David spoke, smiling. "I feel like we hardly had any time to ourselves. I don't care if we just sat around and talked until we fell asleep."

"I'm not being presumptuous, and I hope I'm not putting you on the spot, but what do you think your parents would say if you asked them if I could stay with you at their house tonight?" Kurt suggested. "Like, if we wanted to both crash in the gameroom or something?"

David's face became more serious, but it never entirely lost its smile. "I'd ask, just because I want to be with you tonight. I think they'd be okay with it, honestly. We’d hafta behave ourselves." David paused for a moment before adding, "You'd actually, like, sleep in your suit?"

Kurt smiled. "I brought a change of clothes with me."

David's smile became suspicious, accusing. " _What?_ So you were _planning_ this?"

"No," Kurt replied, appearing honest enough. "Actually, I brought them in case I wanted to change into something comfortable before we left the banquet hall. I might have been more comfortable if I had, but I really enjoyed going to see your friends while we were all dressed-up. It felt like we were looking amazing and showing each other off."

David's reaction was silent. A smile as he cast his gaze downward and rolled Kurt's hand in his own.

Kurt's car came to a stop and parked in the driveway of the Karofsky house. After retrieving his jacket from the backseat, David unlocked the front door, and they both entered, Kurt with a garment bag slung over his shoulder. David and Kurt both approached the family room where Paul and Lorraine were sitting together on the couch and watching the television.

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. We're back." David spoke to his parents.

Kurt chimed similarly, "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky."

Paul smiled while Lorraine asked perkily, "Did you have a good time at the wedding?"

Kurt nodded and smiled agreeable as Davie answered. "Yeah, it was a good time. We were gonna hang down in the gameroom for a while, okay?"

"Absolutely," Paul replied, cheerful.

"I'm going to head downstairs to the bathroom and change out of my suit if that's okay," Kurt spoke to David.

"Sure," David answered. Kurt walked toward the steps to the gameroom as David remained at the threshold to the family room.

When Kurt emerged from the bathroom, having changed into a loose-fitting sweatshirt, loose jeans, and casual slip-on shoes, he saw Paul and David waiting for him in the gameroom. David was still wearing his suit, excepting the jacket which was draped over one of his arms.

"You two boys have a seat?" Paul directed them toward the couch where they sat next to each other as Paul sat in a chair facing them.

"I understand that you've been away from each other for a while and that you miss each other," Paul began. "David, I know that you respect your mother and me. I trust that the two of you wouldn't act in a way that would make us feel, uh, uncomfortable or awkward during the course of the night. You're both adults: Kurt, you're eighteen; David, you're nineteen. I'm not going to lecture you on anything here, and I'm not going to be checking in on what you're doing in the middle of the night. If I come down here tomorrow morning, and you're curled up together on the couch like you were that night I found you out on the back porch furniture, that'll be sweet. If I come down here tomorrow morning and find you tangled up in some state of undress, that would probably disturb me."

"Dad, you don't have anything to worry about," David protested mildly as Kurt nodded in agreement with David. "I mean, I can sleep on the recliner or something."

Paul smiled, relaxed. "Listen, I'm a guy, and I was your age once. I'd imagine that the urges are the same, even if the object of those urges was different. I'm just asking you to be respectful. You two can have this time tonight here with each other, and we're not going to pry. Just don't give us reason to regret that decision." Paul turned to address Kurt. "Your dad okay with this, Kurt?"

"I'm going to call him right now, actually," Kurt answered. "If he's not, I'll be on my way around midnight."

"Okay, well, I'm going to leave the two of you then," Paul stood and, reaching downward toward them, patted them on opposite shoulders affectionately. "Have a good night, gentlemen. I'll see you in the morning."

Kurt and David both bade Paul goodnight as he smiled and nodded, turned, and left for the upstairs. Kurt leaned into David's shoulder with a small, content smile. "Your dad is awesome, David."

David smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I love my parents, definitely." David reached for his jacket which he'd placed beside himself on the couch. "I'm gonna go upstairs and change."

"Not so fast," Kurt replied with a quiet, flirty tone.

"What?" David spoke as his face widened into a smile and affected cluelessness.

"'What.'" Kurt mocked David flirtatiously. Kurt slid his hands over David's chest and under the suspenders causing David to chuckle, a hint of ticklishness.

"You just wanted to play with my suspenders."

"You know what's great about you wearing suspenders?"

David smirked. "No. What?"

"This." Kurt exhaled as he slid his hands and twisted his wrists under them, taking the suspenders in his hands, sliding his hands upward toward David's shoulders, tightening his grip, and pulling David toward him into a kiss.

David blushed upon his release from the kiss. "We should probably tame it down a little. My parents are being very cool about this."

"I know," Kurt answered, nodding. "And I'm not ungrateful." Kurt pulled David close again and kissed his cheek. "Go ahead and get changed. I'll call my dad and be waiting for you right here."

David nodded and exited the gameroom, climbing the stairs. Kurt called his father and, with a minimum of whining and assuring Burt that it was okay with David's parents, Burt agreed to the overnight arrangement; and Kurt assured that he and the Karofskys would be present for breakfast in the morning. David returned rather quickly wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and canvas slip-on shoes. He turned off the main lighting, leaving only a nightlight in the adjoining bathroom illuminated, seated himself, sliding into a corner of the couch, and Kurt moved himself close, snugging the back of his shoulder against David's chest.

"Mom and Dad had just finished a bottle of wine when I was coming downstairs," David began. "I think the fact that you and I went to a wedding together got them feeling kinda romantic. I don't think they'll be much to worry about tonight, though I still think we should keep it low-key."

"I'd never take that as any kind of invitation," Kurt responded before giving a thoughtful expression and expanding, "Have you noticed that, since you and I have been together, that your parents are more visibly romantic than they were before, or is it my imagination?"

David laughed quietly. "No, I definitely noticed that. What about your dad and stepmom?"

Kurt nodded, smiling. "Yes, it seems true for them also, and I can't deny it."

"Are your dad and stepmom good friends with Mr. Schuester and Miss Pillsbury?" David asked.

"You mean because they were invited to the wedding?" Kurt began his answer. "Yes. Actually, Mr. Schue helped my father with his congressional run. And, it's a given, that if a congressman knows you personally, you're more likely to invite him to your wedding."

David chuckled and lifted his arm around Kurt's shoulder, gently pulling Kurt closer to him. "I was a little bummed that I didn't get to talk to Finn more, but I'll see him tomorrow morning at breakfast. I mean, I understand that, as best man, he had things to do. His toast was really good."

"Finn will surprise you," Kurt opined. "He might seem a little awkward and dim sometimes, but he shines when he needs to."

"I really liked seeing him," David remarked, "and I'm glad I'll get to see him tomorrow."

"How are things at school, David?" Kurt asked, with mild but genuine concern. "Are you feeling better about being there?"

"Yeah, actually I am," David offered. "Still not any, like, really close friends, but there's a few guys I've run into in the weight room who've invited me to go to the football games with them."

"That sounds good. Have you taken them up on the offer?"

"Yeah," David answered. "Our team is really pretty bad, actually. I guess the tech-heavy and art-heavy schools don't get much in terms of athletic excellence, but, hey, it's something to do on Saturday afternoons. There's some guys I talk to in my classes as well. I get invited to parties and stuff, but I don't really want to get involved in the college-party thing. It just doesn't feel like me right now."

"I agree, David. It _doesn't_ seem like you."

"I mean, I'll have a couple of beers with the guys after the football games, but that's about it." David paused for a moment as Kurt shifted his back closer into David's chest. "When I get my schoolwork to a place where I feel I have time for other things, I might look into an informal hockey or rugby league," David added. "The guys I go to the games with do a little of both of those. Really, the things that make me feel the best are schoolwork and you."

Kurt smiled in reaction and the two sat silent for a time as Kurt turned to David and whispered, "You're sweet, David."

"It's true," David whispered a quiet reply before leaning forward and kissing the back of Kurt's neck. "Are _you_ getting along okay at school?"

"Yes," Kurt answered. "There's kind-of a close circle of us who go to the concerts and plays around the campus. I go running with a couple of the guys from my interpretive dance class a few times a week also."

"The ones who knew me from the commencement video?" David asked enthusiastically.

"Yes, they're the ones." Kurt replied.

David chuckled. "That's cool. I go running in the mornings, but just by myself."

"Did you have a good time at the wedding, David?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Kurt, I had an amazing time. If someone had told me, even six months ago, that being at a wedding could be such an amazing experience, I wouldn't have believed them, but it absolutely was."

"What made it so amazing for you, David?"

David waited a moment before answering, collecting his thoughts and deciding how he wanted to phrase himself. "It was just incredible, Kurt. We walked into the church and sat beside each other together. As a _couple_. When they were taking their vows, and you took my hand and held it, it was almost an overload, Kurt. At first, I was nervous, like being afraid of someone seeing us and what people might think. It took about ten seconds for all of that anxiety to go away. I felt somehow transformed or something, in, like, ten seconds. I can't count the number of times I've felt like I've been liberated because of you. If I walked into that church with any apprehension, it was a memory by the time I left. Being with you at the reception, sitting next to you, holding hands in the open like that, in full view of everyone, and feeling like it was something that everyone there was okay with: it was more than I could have expected. It felt warm and safe and perfect, and I swear I almost choked up a couple of times." David paused, shaking his head and exhaling. "And I'm sorry if, when we danced together, I came off as anxious or nervous..."

Kurt interjected, cutting off David's speech. "You did great, David. Sure, it felt like you were a little nervous at first, but that went away."

"I still felt kinda nervous on the inside, but watching your face calmed me down once we got going. And the fact that nobody was pointing their finger at us and laughing at me or something."

"You're too self-conscious, David. You did fine. I mean, Carole asked you to dance with her."

David laughed. "Yeah, she's a lot of fun. She said I danced better than your dad."

"You do," Kurt rolled his eyes and giggled. "Were you okay when Blaine asked me to dance with him?"

"Yeah, absolutely," David spoke without hesitation. "I have no insecurities about you and me; and if I did, Blaine wouldn't be a threat anyway."

Kurt chuckled. "I guess the way Blaine and I ended seemed pretty final." Kurt paused before adding, "I'm almost surprised that Blaine didn't ask you to dance with him."

"Oh, please," David rolled his eyes, "I think that would have been terrible; I know it would have felt weird for me."

"Why's that?" Kurt asked, his tone almost scolding.

"Because every way he and I have ever related to each other has been strange. Even when it felt normal, it was followed by something strange. Him asking me to dance would have just been weird." David paused before quieting and asking, "How'd it feel for you; I mean, do you think you'll be friends again?"

"I don't know. I've danced with him before, so, going into 'professionalism-mode' while I danced with him for a while was easy enough; and singing with him a couple of times tonight was easy because we've done that before. I guess if we run into each other at things like this, we can put aside the past and be friendly. I don't know if we'll ever be, exactly, _besties_ again or anything, but at least it doesn't seem like anything is uncomfortable."

"That's good," David spoke, nearly a whisper, face taking on a smile.

"So," Kurt changed the subject after a period of silence, "are you taking your truck back to Pittsburgh with you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely," David answered. "It's a long trip for my dad to make to pick me up and take me back a few days later. I talked with my landlord, and she has a parking space in a private lot a couple of doors down which I can use. How about you? Are you taking the Navigator to Oberlin with you?"

"No," Kurt sighed. "I, unfortunately, don't have a place to park it; but, then again, the drive from Lima to Oberlin isn't nearly as taxing as your commute."

"That's true," David muttered as Kurt swivelled to face him. "What are you doing?"

Kurt raised his hands and engaged them into David's hair. "I've been wanting to do this all day, but I didn't want to mess up your hair while you were dressed so well."

Kurt smiled mischievously as David chuckled. Kurt leaned himself forward and met David's lips with his: slow but purposeful, deliberate.

"Pull yourself more onto the couch so we can do this right." Kurt urged, still smiling.

David's smile mirrored Kurt's though he protested slightly as he lifted his feet from the floor and settled himself lengthwise on the couch. "You _are_ gonna get us in trouble, Kurt."

"Don't be silly, David," Kurt answered. "Your dad just about said that he _expects_ this."

Kurt stood upright on his knees, legs straddling David's midsection. He lowered himself toward David, and David met him halfway, greeting Kurt's lips with his. They slid against each other: Kurt's hands moving alternately from David's chest to his hair, David's hands moving from the sides of Kurt's trunk to his back to his neck. Their breathing became slightly audible; their arousal obvious.

As they parted, David exhaled and spoke, "We're never going to get to sleep tonight if I don't take care of you." Kurt's face puzzled as David continued, rolling himself from under Kurt and placing Kurt onto the couch. "Do you think I can do this without us making too much noise?" David reached up under the hem of Kurt's sweatshirt and found the button closure on Kurt's jeans; he popped it open and slowly, silently ran the zipper to its lowest position. He lifted Kurt and worked Kurt's pants and bikini-briefs downward in one consciously gentle action. He set both hands and his mouth into motion. Kurt's hands found their way forward, resting on David's shoulders, moving centrally to converge upon his thick neck then back to his shoulders again, unconsciously kneading into the muscle and flesh as David's neck buckled and torso shifted rhythmically, purposeful. It was brief, mere minutes before David felt Kurt's leg muscles tense, his joints seize, and the flood of Kurt's release into his mouth.

Both retained their postures until Kurt's body relaxed, and David lifted himself back up to Kurt's level, kissing Kurt's face softly, emiting a barely-audible sound, almost a wheezing noise, pulling him close, his hand on the back of Kurt's head, his moist mouth finally finding the Kurt's in the darkness. As their faces parted, Kurt rested his head against David's chest for a moment before speaking, "I get to do that to you now."

"You really don't have to," David spoke. "I can sleep, no problem."

"David, I want to do this," Kurt spoke with resolve. "Just let me get my pants up."

"Wait a second," David whispered. "Let me get a towel from the bathroom before you do, probably want to dry off a little down there."

When David returned with the towel, Kurt was ready for him, standing on his knees on the floor. He pulled the drawstring closure on David's sweatpants causing them to drop with a minimum of effort. David's boxer-briefs were slightly more work, but Kurt vanquished them handily. Kurt's warm mouth made contact with flesh, and, as always, David's hips reflexed forward, despite David's efforts to control this. Kurt was able to wordlessly coax David to the couch and a more comfortable sitting position without missing a beat. Though the circumstances and surroundings made David somewhat nervous, he relaxed quickly once seated. In the near-dark of the room, David reached forward, first touching Kurt's hair with the backs of his fingers, then working his fingertips lightly into Kurt's hair, gently touching the scalp. Kurt was focused: he registered David's appreciative touch but did not allow it to distract him from his present action. For some time, David watched, almost awed, as Kurt's movements and expression assumed a visage of absolute devotion; then David's eyes rolled and closed as his vision warmly hazed. It typically required a greater time for Kurt's actions upon David to reach an end, and this time was no exception; the results, however, as always, were rewarding for both parties.

Kurt rose to the couch and seated himself next to David, gently taking him into his arms and kissing through quiet, exhausted breaths, David's face a warm seeming-paralysis: eyes closed, mouth open, brow faintly creased, a soft whistle accompanying his audible breaths. Finally, David's forehead came to rest on Kurt's shoulder, and the two remained in this posture for some time.

"I don't think you're going to have trouble sleeping now, huh?" David muttered, more air than actual voice.

"No," Kurt's reply was equally airy. "Let's get dried-off and zipped-back-up, I guess."

Within minutes, the two lay, fully covered and clothed, quietly on the couch: Kurt's back to David's chest, David's arm around Kurt's trunk, his hand in Kurt's and held close to Kurt's heart, each aware of the other's heartbeat.

"The only problem," Kurt whispered, "is that we're going to wake up tomorrow morning wanting to do that again."

David smiled and nearly sighed. "If we wake up early enough, we _can_ do that again."

 

**Tuesday, October 2**

"Hello, David!"

"Hey, Kurt," David hailed into his phone.

"How time flies. It's already after nine o'clock. I didn't realize that it was time for our nightly call yet. I've been immersed in work for my composition class."

"Don't work too hard," David replied, sounding jovial.

Kurt laughed. "No, I'm enjoying this. I've never done work like this before, so this is all new to me, but it's interesting. Even if I don't get very good at it, I think it will give me a greater understanding of music theory in general."

"Aww, you'll be _great_ at it," David answered.

"Well, songwriting is something that you either have or you don't, like art, I guess," Kurt explained. "Well, you sound pumped about something tonight. What's going on?"

"I don't know if I can say I'm exactly pumped, but, yeah, I feel pretty good," David explained, "I found out today that I aced a couple of tests I took on Friday."

"That's no surprise, David," Kurt replied with attitude.

"Well, also, I just got back from running," David said.

"I thought you ran in the mornings."

"Well, I do, but I found there's this organized group of LGBT runners that meets a few times a week, and they run right near the area where I live," David expanded. "I met and ran with them tonight for the first time. Mostly guys, a couple of gals. Seems like a nice bunch of people and kinda the thing I was looking to get into."

"That sounds great, David," Kurt replied.

"Yeah, they meet every Tuesday and Thursday evening and every Saturday morning. They usually go out for dinner afterward, but, like, it will depend upon where they go as to whether I join them for that or not."

"Why's that?" Kurt asked with an audible laugh.

"Well, if they're going to a sandwich shop or something like that, I'm cool with it. If they're going for, like, Chinese or fried chicken, it kinda defeats the purpose of running, right?"

"David, you're just _too_ logical sometimes," Kurt chuckled. "So, what kind of people are in the group?"

"Like I said, mostly guys," David began his answer. "There are a few guys around my age, but most of them are older, mostly in their thirties and forties, some in their fifties. They're mostly just average-kinda guys, and most of the older guys are coupled and run as couples, which is great."

"That _is_ great," Kurt remarked, "a bunch of new friends, then?"

"Oh, I've just met them once so far," David answered. "Right now, it's just something to do with some level of social interaction. I might look into one of those informal sports leagues next semester, but, right now, this is pretty comfortable with my schedule."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, David," Kurt sounded appreciative. "Otherwise everything else is good?"

"Yeah, everything's the same except that I have this new thing I can do every Tuesday night and Thursday night and Saturday morning which is healthy and beneficial and gets me out of my apartment and interacting with people."

"You can only hit the books so much before you start to get a little crazy," Kurt added.

"I still miss the heck outta you, Kurt."

"Where'd that come from?"

"My heart," David spoke and his voice quieted. "And it's going to be absolutely true until we can be together physically again, but I'm dealing with it. I'm doing better than I was."

"David, I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt. I'm smiling right now just thinking about us."

"You say the best things at exactly the right times."

Both were quiet for a time, listening, feeling.

"I could just sit here listening to you breathe for an hour, David."

"There wouldn't be any point in that. I'm going to get going. It's near your bedtime, and I wanna get my schoolwork organized for tomorrow."

"Goodnight, David."

"Goodnight, Kurt. Talk to you tomorrow."

 

**Thursday, November 15**

"Hello, David," Kurt's voice crackled out of David's phone.

"Hey, Kurt," David sounded lively as usual.

"How was the Thursday evening run?"

" _Oh_ ," David dragged out the word as if annoyed, "It was fine but not without... _things_."

"What?" Kurt questioned, high-pitched.

"Well," David paused before continuing. "There's some really good news. I'll be moving into a bigger apartment at the end of the semester."

"What?"

"You remember that couple in the running group that I made friends with. The two who are kinda younger, in their mid-to-late twenties?"

"Yeah, um, Jeff and Garry?" Kurt recalled.

"Yeah, those guys," David explained. "Garry works in real estate, and he has a rental property that's, like, a whole floor of an older house, almost twice as big as my apartment now, and he can rent it to me for what I'm paying my current landlord. Plus, it has a driveway and a garage, sort-of; really, just kind-of an open structure to park under. So, I'm moving."

"That's awesome, David."

"Yeah, I'll be staying for a couple of days after the semester ends to get moved. The best part is that it's only a couple of blocks from where I live right now, so moving will be easy. The lease on my current place is semester-to-semester, so I won't need to worry about breaking my lease. I'd love for you to come visit me next semester if you can, maybe Spring break or something. I think you'd really like Garry and Jeff. They're really good people." David paused before saying, "And, yeah, now that I have the truck out here with me, there's no excuse for me not to visit you next semester too."

"So," Kurt began, a questioning tone, "you said before, _'things'_. That was just one thing. What else is going on?"

"Oh," David began, his tone sounded somewhat less enthusiastic as he cleared his throat. "One of the younger guys in the running group, another college student like me, unearthed that commencement video; and, by the time I showed up tonight, everyone there had seen it."

Kurt laughed rather loudly before speaking again. "Well, you're not _embarrassed_ about it or something, are you?"

"No, it's just, like, everywhere," David explained, "It's gotten kind-of old."

"Well, David, I am proud of you for that time and so many other things you've done." Kurt paused before adding, "And everything you are, and you should be proud of all of that too."

"Yeah, you're right," David spoke after a brief silence and a long exhale, "If I'm gonna be followed around by something, I should be happy that it's something good, something I can be proud of." David chuckled. "The real work, the thing I am more proud of is the actual project. Me going off on a few hecklers, well, that's what people remember, I guess."

"David, it was part of the most amazing year of my life," Kurt replied. "Don't forget, it was the day I realized that I had feelings for you. Big ones."

Both fell silent for a span until David spoke. "Hey, I'll be back in Lima by this time next week for the Thanksgiving break. Probably be getting in a week from today. When are you going to be there?"

"Dad's picking me up over the weekend, actually," Kurt answered. "Probably sometime on Sunday."

"Well, I plan to spend every possible moment I can with you, waking or otherwise," David declared, causing Kurt to laugh. David expanded. "Don't laugh, Kurt," at this, David was beginning to laugh also. "What does your family usually do for Thanksgiving?"

"Uh, it's usually pretty quiet," Kurt replied. "With Finn not being around this year, it'll probably be even quieter... "

"Well, then, I'm going to talk to my parents and see if they'll host the Hummels this Thanksgiving," David interjected.

"That would be really nice, but please check with your parents first," Kurt responded.

"Well, I had a horrible Thanksgiving last year," David remarked. "I think my parents owe me a good one. And your parents deserve one that isn't sad or something."

"Find out soon," Kurt said, "If we wait too long, my parents are going to plan something of their own."

"Absolutely, Kurt," David reassured as his voice quieted. "I can't wait to see you."

"Same here, David."

"Getting late. I should probably let you go and finish what you were doing so you can get some sleep."

"I'm fine, but, yeah, it is getting late."

"Goodnight, Kurt. I love you."

"I love you too, David. Goodnight."

 

**Monday, December 31, 2012**

"Eleven-fifty-two," David spoke clearly to Kurt as others spoke nearby: background chatter. "Eight minutes to midnight. We should probably get our text messages ready to send out for when the ball drops."

They were standing outside on the back porch of Gretchen's house; other party guests were quietly speaking to each other in the outdoor area, and still more were in the basement studio room where the television counted down to the new year. Though the air was brisk, it was unseasonably mild. Kurt and David poked at their phones, pecking out messages and scrolling through their contacts lists, adding recipients.

"Who are you sending yours to?" Kurt asked.

"Well, Finn, obviously, was the reason why we're doing this, so his was the first name I went for," David explained. "Then I added a couple of the guys I lift with from school and Jeff and Garry and some of the other guys from the running club. How about you?"

Kurt, not looking up from his phone, spoke as he added names to his message. "Finn, of course. Mercedes, Rachel, Sam, some friends from school. Did you add your parents?"

"I don't know if they'd even still be awake," David snickered. "I wouldn't want to wake them if they're not." David's smile flattened slightly as he stopped scrolling his list for a moment. "Are you sending to Blaine?"

"No," Kurt shook his head. "Blaine still has to make a first move if we're going to be friendly."

"You were dancing with him at Shuester's wedding, Kurt," David reminded, "Seemed pretty friendly to me."

"A case could also be made that he'd have been dancing with anyone so he wouldn't miss the valuable center-of-attention opportunity."

"Oh." David searched his list, "I gotta find Howie's name."

"Why isn't Howie here?" Kurt asked. "We saw him last week when we got together with all of your Thurston friends right after Christmas."

"He's spending New Years in Boston with his new girlfriend," David explained as he located Howie's name on his list. "He met her at school in Cambridge. Her family lives basically right across the river."

"I think my message is ready," Kurt said.

"Yeah, if there's anyone we forgot, we have a few minutes before midnight at least," David remarked, sliding his phone into his pocket and taking Kurt into his arms as they both looked outward at the horizon.

They were silent for a while, breath visible in the crisp winter air. "Best year of my life so far," David finally spoke. "It started out so bad, but it's ending so great."

Kurt smiled and took David's hands into his, twisting his head to see David's face. "Does it get better than this?"

David smiled, silent for a moment before speaking. "It must, right? I mean, it has to. There's so much I'm looking forward to, Kurt. Big things, like us living together, maybe five years from now. Smaller things like Valentine's Day and Spring Break."

"A year from now, I hope you're with me watching the ball drop in Times Square and not on TV," Kurt added.

"Exactly," David whispered, smiling, as he lowered his head to Kurt's and looked out toward the moonlit horizon again. "This whole week has been fantastic, Kurt. It was like the reward after putting up with all of the isolation and work of the last four months."

"Our first Christmas together was great," Kurt contributed.

"Yeah," David spoke softly. "I wish I was as good at getting gifts for you as you are at getting gifts for me."

"David," Kurt's tone was playfully scolding. "Gourmet coffee, boutique chocolates, and imported shortbread are perfect gifts for me. And, you made me dinner Friday night; and it was really good. And romantic. Everything was just... great."

"Yeah, well, you're padding out my wardrobe in ways I couldn't," David countered. "I've been getting compliments on this sweater all night, and I love the scarf that you gave me." David exhaled a laugh and continued, "When you dress me up and I look into a mirror, I still see me, but it's a better, more refined, more _defined_ me."

" _You_ are going to have a collection of scarves in no time," Kurt spoke with a warning tone to his voice as David chuckled in response. "I like dressing you up," Kurt spoke through a smile, "but you do pretty well on you own too."

The sliding glass door opened, and Sean emerged, calling out to the people on the porch, "Four minutes 'til the ball drops." He stepped out onto the porch when he noticed David and Kurt standing at the far edge.

"Hey, guys," Sean approached. "I said hello to you earlier, but I barely got to talk to you other than that. How's things?"

David and Kurt turned on their heels in opposite directions to face Sean, almost knocking each other off-balance in doing so, then, holding onto each other and laughing, the two called out, almost in perfect unison between laughs, "Hi, Sean."

Sean smiled and shook his head, putting his hand to his mouth for a moment: a near face-palm reaction. "You two... couldn't have done that if you tried."

"We were just hanging out here, talking about the year we had," David spoke more quietly, having recovered from his laughter but still smiling as he patted Sean's shoulder and Kurt nodded agreement. "How have things been with you?"

"Things are going well," Sean answered. "School's going well. There's more to do in Cleveland than there is in Lima."

"You know, I haven't gotten out to Cleveland since I've been at Oberlin, and there's really no excuse for that," Kurt spoke.

"Maybe we'll hafta correct that sometime during the Spring semester," David offered. "I come out to stay with you, and we go meet-up with Sean in Cleveland."

"Hey, I'm up for that," Sean said enthusiastically. "There's a lot to do, great restaurants, music everywhere, the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame: all kinds of stuffs."

"Seeing anyone?" Kurt asked, a flirty expression.

Sean snickered and shook his head. "Naw, just kinda having fun seeing what's out there right now. If I was seeing anyone, he'd probably be here with me tonight, or I'd be with him somewhere else."

David and Kurt nodded as David said, "Well, you look really good, Sean."

"Thank you," Sean smiled, blushing slightly. "I think our senior year of high school was transformative for every one of my friends." Sean turned, looking toward the glass doors for a moment, then faced David and Kurt again. "Looks like they're getting ready to pop open the champagne."

David shook his head. "You Thurston people are out-of-hand. I mean, some of us drank beer at McKinley, but the amount and variety of alcohol available to you guys seems staggering."

"Blame Gretchen," Sean laughed. "Having hippie-parents has a few advantages, I guess." Sean turned toward the doors and turned back. "I'm heading inside. I think there's, like, fifty seconds."

"You think anyone would mind if Kurt and I just passed the midnight moment thing out here by ourselves?" David asked Sean quietly.

Sean shook his head, mouth slightly agape. "Honestly, with everything that's going on in there, I don't think anyone will really notice; and anyone who does probably appreciates your 'conspicuous absence'. I'm going in. See you guys, uh, next year. About a _minute_ into next year."

Kurt and David both laughed as Sean turned and slid the glass door, re-entering the basement of Gretchen's house, leaving the pair to themselves.

"He's certainly become the _'cool guy'_ ," Kurt opined.

"If you'd have seen him on the first day of school of our senior year, you'd _never_ know it was the same person," David seconded. "I mean, he was like, nerd-cute, but now, he's just kinda drop-dead handsome." David turned to Kurt, and their eyes locked. "Speaking of handsome."

Kurt smiled, and they could hear the revelers inside the house counting down: "Twenty... nineteen... eighteen... "

"Get your phone ready to send out your message," David reminded as he reached into his pocket and produced his phone.

"Sixteen... fifteen... fourteen... "

"Ready?" David asked, gently biting his lip in a small smile, expectation.

"Yes," Kurt answered, smiling, effervescent.

"Thirteen... twelve... eleven... "

"Our first New Year's Eve together," Kurt whispered, looking upward to David's eyes.

"Ten... nine... eight... "

David's eyes strayed to his phone; Kurt's did the same. "You ready? We send on 'one'."

"Seven... six... five..."

"And then?" Kurt grinned.

"Three... two... ONE... "

David and Kurt, in perfect synchronization, touched the send buttons of their phones; then, as if choreographed, drew their arms around the other. Kurt arched his neck, allowing David to move close. Their eyes met for a moment before they closed and their lips met, strong but not rough: passionate, deep.

They held their posture for a long moment, almost gasping when they parted.

"Happy New Year, Kurt." David's words more breathed than actually spoken.

"Happy New Year, David." Kurt's words held more audible substance, bringing a growing smile to David's face and, as a reaction, a smile to Kurt's as well.

"We made it," David whispered.

"What?"

"The semester break," David reminded. "Before we left for school, you said that you thought we'd be good if we made it to the semester break. We did. We made it."

Kurt looked downward and chuckled, a warm laugh, as he pushed himself closer into David's body, his head snug against David's shoulder, and David closed his arms more tightly around Kurt.

"We should probably go in and wish everyone else a happy new year," David suggested. "We can come back out here later, but we can't ignore our friends for too long."

Kurt snickered as they made their toward the door. As if on-cue, their phones began buzzing with reply messages from their friends far away.

Sean was waiting for Kurt and David as they entered, giving each a flute of champagne and a one-armed-hug. "Happy New Year, guys," Sean spoke, low and warm.

"Thanks, Sean," David replied, "Happy New Year."

Sean stepped away, and Kurt eyed the flute suspiciously; David pressed. "It's _one glass_ of champagne. It's not going to get you drunk, and it's not going to blow your ability to drive us home. Even if it does, I'm sure Gretchen could put us up until morning."

Kurt shook his head. "You are such a _bad influence_ , David Karofsky."

David smiled and shook his head. "I'm _not_. It's the _New Year_ , and we have reason to be happy." David held his glass in Kurt's direction. _"Cheers."_

Kurt's face broke into a smile; affected stoicism was futile. "Cheers, David," Kurt said as he tapped his glass to David's and they both drank.

The two made their way around the room, first as a couple, then separating, wishing and being wished the best of new years. Most of David's friends from Thurston were in attendance as well as some of his friends from McKinley. David spent an extended time with Johnno and Chris while Kurt became better acquainted with Natalie and Gretchen: Natalie, Kurt discovered, knew a great deal about art, Gretchen was an artist herself, and Kurt found himself intrigued. Soon enough, however, David and Kurt found themselves standing by the sliding doors and, consequently, out on the porch; this time, however, they had the porch completely to themselves.

Once again, as before, they were facing the horizon. The moon had shifted in the sky, illuminating distant treetops in silver against the star-dotted, blue-black night. "Did you read all of your New-Years text messages?" David asked.

"Yes," Kurt produced his phone and scanned the queue of received messages.

"Did you get one from Finn complaining that we were three hours early?" David asked with a grin.

_"Yes,"_ Kurt dragged out the word as if beleaguered by the obviousness of the time-zone difference.

"I'm sure he was just joking," David said with certainty as he wrapped his arms around Kurt, both still facing outward toward the expanse of nocturnal landscape and sky.

"I'm never sure where Finn is concerned," Kurt countered.

"You really don't give him enough credit," David said, sincerely. "Even if he's a little loopy sometimes, he's a great guy."

"You're right, David," Kurt conceded. "I can put up with a little loopy." Kurt found a message on his phone and accessed it, sharing the screen with David.

Blaine: _Happy New Year, Kurt. I hope you and David are having a wonderful night._ 12:01AM

"Wow," David reacted. "That was really nice of him. Did you send one back to him?"

"Mmm-hmm," Kurt nodded an affirmative. "I wondered what his motive could be, and then I was kind-of disappointed in myself for questioning it."

"He probably just wants you to be happy," David said.

"I know," Kurt said, sounding slightly defeated.

"I don't blame you for feeling defensive where Blaine is concerned, but don't beat yourself up over it," David offered as he loosened his arms and moved to a side, turning Kurt to face him.

Kurt's expression of uncertainty gave way to a smile when he looked up to David's face and the tentative smile it wore. "I _am_ having a wonderful night with my amazingly beautiful man," Kurt said as he lifted his arms to draw David close.

"Me too."


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 10,000

**Chapter 40**

 

**Monday, August 12, 2013**

"Hello, David," Kurt spoke into his phone.

"Hey, Kurt," David returned. "Are you all moved in?"

"For the most part, yes. I still have some boxes to unpack, but nothing that can't wait."

"Mmhmm."

Kurt's face puzzled. David's answers were brief, though not the kind of brief-mixed-with-subtle-hostility they were about a year-and-a-half ago. This had an undercurrent of sadness or disappointment or hurt. "David, are you okay?"

There was no answer for a moment, and the sound of David exhaling loudly into the phone before he spoke. "I'm kinda disappointed, mostly in myself. I don't feel like we got the time to say goodbye to each other properly before we both went back to school. I wanted to help you with packing and moving, but that didn't quite happen. With as busy as I was with working a lot and everything, before I knew it, it was time for me to get ready to go back to Pittsburgh, and you were in the middle of getting ready for the move to New York. I feel like I kinda botched the end of our summer."

"David," Kurt's tone was an equal measure of scolding and sympathy. "I had a really great summer with you, even if sometimes we were too exhausted to do much besides fall asleep next to each other on the couch or something. And you did come out to Oberlin at the end of the Spring semester and help me pack and get moved back to Lima. And don't forget, we spent a few whole days together at my old apartment doing that. Those few days were the closest I've felt to anyone. Ever. And, if the end of the summer got a little out of control for us to really have the time we wanted, that's just life, I guess." Kurt's tone softened slightly. "We'll have our time together. I'm patient. I know you can be patient about this too."

"Yeah." David's reply still sounded deflated. "I guess I had some expectations of the summer being as amazing as last year."

"It _was_ as amazing as last year's in so many ways," Kurt remarked.

"It just didn't feel like we did as many fun things or anything. I was getting as many tutoring jobs as I could get and working part-time as much as I could. You were helping at the garage and getting tutoring jobs as well. It just seemed like we missed each other a lot."

"David, we spent a lot of time with each other, even if much of it was spent falling asleep in front of the TV. I really didn't care so much _what_ we were doing as long as we were together."

There was a span of silence on the phone before David answered, "Yeah, I guess."

Kurt expanded. "We still ran together almost every morning, even if we couldn't often get our schedules to allow us some _undisturbed together-time_ afterward like we had last summer. It was kind-of cool meeting each other for lunch in the middle of a day of tutoring appointments. And sex or no-sex, falling asleep and/or waking in your arms is incredible."

Kurt heard David exhale a warm laugh. "You're right about that. About all of it. I guess I just wanted some definite time together with you for those last few days. Before I knew it, the time for that was gone."

"So," Kurt dragged the word out and changed the subject after a moment of quiet, "did you leave the truck in Lima like you were thinking of doing?"

"Yeah," David answered. "It made sense to do that. Everything I need here is within walking distance or a bus ride. It was nice having the truck around last semester, mostly because, if I had a free weekend or something, I could pick up and make the three-hour drive out to see you in Oberlin. New York is almost eight hours away. I couldn't be making that trip with any regularity, though I do plan on coming out to see you at some point, definitely for New Years."

"That is a consequence of being further away," Kurt observed. "It was great when you could just drop everything and come out to see me."

"Yeah, and I loved that too. Your friends out at Oberlin were all really great people. Being able to stay with you overnight on a semi-regular basis was amazing."

"I am going to miss those people at Oberlin," Kurt confided, wistful. "And I'm going to miss the whole environment. Granted, I wanted New York. It's where I feel I need to be, but everything out at Oberlin was so friendly and everyone was so warm and supportive of each other. I know New York is going to be a different in so many ways"

"Well," David was slow with his words, "do you think that you're not ready for New York, or something?"

"No, I feel I'm up to it," Kurt spoke, somewhat softly, "but that doesn't mean I won't miss the people and the surroundings I had out in Oberlin."

"Yeah, I understand."

"Have you seen Garry and Jeff since you've been back?"

"Yeah," David's voice perked. "Actually, they helped me move back in and had me and my dad over for dinner afterward."

Kurt chuckled. "Did your dad get along with them?"

"Yeah," David was audibly smiling at this point, "Dad said they reminded him of you and me."

Kurt laughed aloud. "They're nothing like us, David!"

"Well, on the surface, yeah, you're right, but I think it was more the way they related to each other and related to others. I think it was just my dad realizing how comfortable he was with everything. And he could see that what they have as an established couple is real."

"I never told you about the talk I had with Garry when I came out to visit you over Spring Break, did I?" Kurt sounded slightly sassy.

"Um, _no,_ " David sounded curious and somewhat uneasy.

"Well, do you remember when we had dinner at their place, after we went running?"

_"Yeah?"_

"And you and Jeff were having a beer and surfing channels while Garry and I cleaned up the dining room table?"

"Uh- _huh?_ "

"Well, he pulled me aside and kind-of warned me that I had better be good to you and treat you well and... "

_"Huh?"_ David interjected, "That's kinda fucked-up."

"No," Kurt said in a dismissive, scolding tone. "It's _sweet_ , actually. They're protective of you. They really like you, David. Garry told me that you're a really good guy and you don't party, and with all of the, um, _opportunities_ that could arise with us living in different places, Garry just wanted to make sure that I was as committed to this as you are, that I was as committed to _us_ as you are."

David was silent. Kurt spoke again.

"I told him to rest assured that I was. He took me at my word, and he seemed satisfied with that."

"That's cool, I guess," David offered, quietly.

"It's great to have friends that look out for you like that, David."

"Kurt, I trust you completely. Those thoughts never enter into my mind."

"And they know that," Kurt answered. "And that's _why_ Garry pulled me aside. And Garry didn't need to tell me anything because I already know all of that about you. I never question my trust in you."

Kurt heard David swallow, almost a mumble, just sound, no words, then a comfortable, definitive silence.

"I love you, Kurt," David finally said, almost whimpered.

"I love you too, David," Kurt sighed loudly. "We couldn't work out spending time together before we both left, but it'll be Thanksgiving break before you know it. We'll both be back in Lima, and we'll be together. Then the Holiday break, first in Lima, then here in New York for the New Year. In the meantime, you have all of your friends where you are. There's no reason for you to feel down about anything."

"I know," David paused and Kurt could actually see the expression on David's face: one of understanding and certainty but mixed with some sadness. "Right now, I gotta just go back to my routine and keep busy. That's the way I work best when you're not around."

Both were silent for a while until David exhaled loudly and spoke. "I should probably let you go. I'm sure you have stuff to unpack and get organized, and I have the same kinda stuff to do. Plus, I'm trying to network myself and get more tutoring work this semester. I have three-times the amount of references I had last year at this time, so I could be pretty busy with that stuff."

"Okay," Kurt answered. "Talk to you tomorrow, or, you could call back later tonight. It's early. Just, please don't let yourself get sad or down about us. Sure, I want us to be together all the time, but we have our whole lives ahead of us once school is out of the way."

"Yeah, you're right," David replied. Kurt could actually hear the smile in David's voice. "Goodbye, Kurt. Talk later."

"Goodbye, David."

 

**Friday, February 14, 2014**

"Hello, Kurt," David spoke into his phone, a buoyancy in this tone.

"Well, hey there, Valentine David," Kurt spoke, low and flirty, "That incredible box of chocolates you sent arrived today."

"Yeah? So you like them then?" David spoke as he walked over to his dresser and lifted a striking blue-and-black piece of fabric in his hand, unfolding it and tossing it playfully before returning to his bed and settling into a reclining posture, the fabric falling softly on his chest.

"They are _delicious_ , David. Thank you."

"Well, I received the scarf you sent me today."

_"Oh?"_ Kurt's flirty voice again.

"Yeah, um, it feels really incredible, like amazing. I'm actually rolling my hand around in it right now."

"Mmmm, It's the _fabric_ , David. It's all warm and slippery with just the right amount of fuzzy."

"Yeah, that's how I'd describe it," David's brow creased as he smiled in agreement. "The color is really kinda awesome, like that almost reflective blue with the black zigzag going on."

"The color is cobalt and the weave is called herringbone, and it's a fairly wide herringbone at that."

"It looks really good with that wooly black coat you gave me for Christmas."

"It's called a _pea coat_ , David." Kurt sounded patronizing, this not being the first time he needed to remind David of the garment's proper name.

"Yeah, I know," David chuckled. "But it's such a weird name. Everyone calls it that but me. My friends are all, like, 'Cool pea coat, Dave,' and I'm, like, 'Uh, thanks'."

Kurt chuckled. "You've got some _interesting_ eccentricities for such a normal guy."

David snickered before he spoke again. "Y'know, I noticed the tag on this scarf. It says it's an exclusive design by KayeLiz. _KayeLiz_. That's _you,_ isn't it? _Kurt Elizabeth_." David's tone was playfully accusing.

"You're good, Philip Marlowe." Kurt's tone was as playful as David's. "Gotta pull that fedora out of retirement and start rockin' it again. It'll look great with the pea coat and the scarf."

David laughed as his grin widened into a huge, uncontrollable smile. "So, is there a story behind KayeLiz?"

"Well, sure," Kurt's voice perked in volume and pitch. "I've always been designing and accessorizing and sometimes making some of the things that I wear. Some of my friends said I should make a few items and approach some of the independent shops and boutiques about selling them. So, I've made a few scarves and shawls and costume jewelry pieces, and I'm just about at the point that I'm ready to shop them around. Every piece is one-of-a-kind, and you have one of the very first pieces. Well, one of the first ones that wasn't a reject. One of the first that I actually put my name on."

"That's really cool, Kurt," David spoke, that he was impressed was obvious. "Can you email me pictures of some of your stuff? I'd really like to see it."

"Sure," Kurt sounded slightly taken aback. "I really didn't think you'd be interested at all, though. It's just, like, scarves and scarf clips and brooches and things."

"Kurt, I'm interested in _everything_ you do." David's voice was quiet, but his tone direct. "Whether I'm directly part of it or whether I'm just admiring and respecting and being proud of you for it, I want to be in on all of it."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed, quiet, barely audible. "Thank you, David. That means a lot to me."

Both were silent for a moment before David began speaking again. "It's Valentine's Day. And it's Friday night. And I wish you could be here or I could be there. But everything is kinda perfect anyway. As perfect as it can be right now."

Both were quiet. Kurt was almost taken speechless. David rubbed the scarf between the fingers and thumb of his right hand.

Kurt breathed loudly. "David, sometimes the things you say are so perfect but with this sadness to them. It's like a sad song that you want to hear again and again or something."

"I don't think it's _sad,_ " David offered. "I mean, we can't be together as much as we want to be, and maybe that feels sad, but there're so many times that I feel, like, a hundred percent better after talking to you. I mean, I can be in a good mood, and just hearing from you can make me feel even better. And, yeah, when I'm out-of-sorts, it works then too, and that's when I really want to feel better. I don't see it as a sad feeling so much as a _longing_ feeling or something like that." 

"You did it again," Kurt uttered. "Perfect words."

"Well, I'm hoping to come to New York when I'm on Spring Break. We can have Valentine's Day then. I'll cook you dinner."

Kurt giggled. "I was going to cook dinner for _you_."

"I'll be there for more than one dinner," David laughed, "We can take turns and collaborate."

"Both of us in the kitchen at once?" Kurt teased.

"Yeah, why?" David's voice affected apprehension as he wrapped the scarf around his hand and brushed his cheek with it.

"Because we'd _never_ get around to eating dinner," Kurt replied.

Both listened intently to the almost imperceptible sound of the other's breathing.

"I could stay like this on the phone all night," David whispered eventually.

"I could also."

"But you probably have some things to do, and I'll be getting up fairly early to run with the running club tomorrow."

"Mmm. Yes. I miss you, David."

"I miss you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Kurt sniffed audibly. "Happy Valentine's Day, David."

"I love you."

"I love you too, David. Goodnight."

"G'night, Kurt."

 

**Wednesday, April 16, 2014**

"Hello, David," Kurt's voice was quiet but melodic as he answered the incoming call.

"Hey, Kurt," David sounded low and somewhat scratchy but with a contented-sounding delivery.

"It's kinda late, David, going on ten o'clock," Kurt noted. "Seems like for the past week or so, I've been calling you at around nine and I've been getting your voicemail."

"Yeah, the tutoring sessions for the last week, this week, and next week are going to be numerous and lengthy," David informed. "Finals are coming up, and I've been tutoring college students as well as high school and middle school kids. I've been getting in at nine-thirty or ten o'clock nearly every night, and by that time, I'm ready to curl up and go to sleep."

_"Mmmm,"_ Kurt purred, "Wish I could be there for that."

"Yeah, me too," David spoke, agreeable in his comfortable exhaustion. "On top of the tutoring, I'm doing some accounting work for Jeff and Garry. They've been selling antiques online, and their sales have gone ballistic lately. I was working last week around the school, setting up the physics labs also, but that's done for the semester, basically a 5-day job at the most."

"Why are you working so much, David?" Kurt's tone was exaggerated, but his concern was real enough.

"Uh, it's not affecting my studies or anything," David explained. "If it was, I'd cut back. I want to save up as much money as I can. I'm hoping by this time next year, I can get a summer internship. Hopefully, that will help me zero-in on what kind of job I want to get once I finish school. How are things going for you?"

"Well, NYADA has a really informal curriculum as opposed to the school at Oberlin," Kurt answered. "I have these teachers who are really demanding, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of focus on what exactly they want."

"That sounds weird," David offered, blunt.

"A lot of arts classes and art teachers are like that. I had one teacher at Oberlin who was like that, but he wasn't so demanding. He was actually apathetic on the surface, like, 'Do what you want to do, and I'll grade you on it.' I found out after the first round of grades that he was looking for specific things, and we had to decode that from his lectures."

"What class was that?"

"It was called Theater Dynamics." Kurt spoke with precise diction.

"Ah," David let out a small, tired chuckle. "All of my classes have names that sound like class names."

"So, other than struggling with trying to read my instructors' minds, the past couple of weeks have been fairly normal." Kurt spoke with an edge of ennui to his delivery. "I met Marcel between classes for coffee today. He's always good for some stories."

"He's a character, alright," David contributed.

"You didn't really like him when you met him, did you?"

"It's not that," David explained. "He's kinda like, if I had met him three years ago, I'd have run screaming from him. I guess there's still some element of the culture that makes me uncomfortable, somehow."

"Come on, David, you hung out with drag queens at Scandals," Kurt reminded.

"Yeah, but those guys were really obvious men dressed in women's clothes," David defended. "Marcel is different from that. He's got this, uh, _mincing_ quality about him, and the way he talks sounds so _mannered_ and, like, _pretentious_."

"He's a _theater_ person, or you might call him a thea _tah_ person, and some of them are like that," Kurt explained. "He's a few generations older than us, and that can have something to do with it also, but he's been such an indispensable friend to Rachel and me."

"I'm not doubting that at all, and, yeah, I think his age has something to do with it," David said. "If I was talking to someone my own age who was like that, I'd probably find it kind-of interesting or charming or something. Seeing it on a guy in his fifties is a little unnerving. I mean, I interviewed that sixty-something guy for my history project a couple of years ago, and he wasn't anything like that."

"Well," Kurt acquiesced. "He _does_ have the appearance of a aged department-store-mannequin come-to-life, and that _can_ be off-putting. You'll just have to hang out with him more next time. He is a really sweet friend, and he's hilarious when you get him going."

David mumbled into an audible yawn. "I'm sure you're right. I just need to get used to him or something."

Kurt continued to talk as he sat on his bed facing his laptop screen, accessing his email which he hadn't yet checked for the day. "Well, I can tell you that prolonged exposure to _theatah_ -types can be maddening, but Marcel is one of the good ones."

"Mmm."

"You sound really tired, David."

David chuckled. "I am, but I'm kinda slap-happy. I want you to talk me to sleep or something. I want your voice to give me pleasant dreams."

"That sounds lovely in theory, but you'll fall asleep with your phone next to you and accidentally redial me many times during the night as you roll around in bed."

"Nnngh," David growled into a laugh. "You know me too well."

"Ooh, you sent me an email today," Kurt spoke, surprised.

"Oh yeah, I did," David recollected. "You know how you've asked me a few times if any songs remind me of us? You and me? The email has a link to a song that kinda reminds me of us."

Kurt clicked on the link, and the song began to play, piano first, then layered backing vocals, then a calm, warm lead voice.

_I've found a way to make you_  
 _I've found a way  
_ _A way to make you smile_

_At my most beautiful_  
 _I count your eyelashes secretly._  
 _With every one, whisper I love you_  
 _I let you sleep_  
 _I know you're closed-eye watching me,_  
 _Listening.  
_ _I thought I saw a smile._

"Mmmmm." The song finished. David breathed a noise, barely audible through the phone.

"David, are you still awake?" Kurt asked, quietly, his voice slightly scratchy.

"Mnnngh. I love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, David."

"Good-night."

"Goodnight, David."

 

**Sunday, August 17, 2014**

"Hey, Kurt," David spoke into his phone, hoarsely, clearing his throat in the process.

"Happy Sunday afternoon, David," Kurt spoke back. "Are you all moved in again?"

"Yeah," David laughed. "It gets easier every time. It's a bonus that I don't need to clear the place out when I leave for the summer. Garry and Jeff hold the place for me, which is really great of them. I just take the essential stuff back to Lima for the summer."

"You sound like you're in a good mood," Kurt offered.

David thought before answering. "I am. I'm glad I'm going to see my friends out this way again. I had a great day yesterday. Mom and Dad both drove me out here, and Garry and Jeff had us all over for dinner. I know I seemed kinda out-of-it when we talked last night, but I'd had a long day."

"I just remember our talk last year around this time," Kurt recollected. "You were disappointed over your summer, and, when I thought about it, we were together even less this summer."

"Kurt, New York is your homebase now. I know that. You were in Lima for two weeks, and I was able to be with you for almost all of those two weeks. We went to Cleveland for three days. Okay, not exactly a romantic tourist destination; but it was convenient, and there was stuff to do between hanging out with Sean and his friends, and Gretchen and Johnno making the trip out to meet us all, and, well, you and me finding enough things to do in our own time." David's voice trailed off quiet and warm at the end. "I don't feel like we missed out on anything together this summer. We worked with what we had." David paused for a moment, hesitant. "Are _you_ disappointed?"

"Um, no," Kurt answered, sounding unsure but ultimately relieved. "I just felt bad about only spending two weeks in Lima. It seemed like the summer was our time to have together, and we got only two weeks out of it this time; but, you're right, we were together for just about all of that time, and it felt really perfect regardless of what we were doing." Kurt paused before asking, "Did your mom like her scarf?"

"Yeah she did," answered heartily. "How are you doing with that stuff?"

"I've been selling some pieces," Kurt responded. "The stores are asking for more, but not at such a rate that I can't keep up with demand. And by 'demand', I mean, whenever I get around to it, and, maybe, three pieces at a time. I'm thinking of designing some bags for men. Do you think you would ever use anything like that?"

"I dunno," David's statement was honest and quick, but the idea wasn't entirely comfortable with him. "I guess I'd hafta see it on me."

"I can come up with something, and you can check it out," Kurt said. "I won't be offended or anything if the whole idea isn't to your liking, but it's a project for another time."

"So, um, you had to be back in New York by the fourth," David noted. "I know you told me the reason why, but the details never did sink in totally."

"Yeah," Kurt sounded slightly dismissive. "Um, there's this young playwright, crazy like they always are, who collaborated with an unknown composer a couple of years ago, and they put together a musical theater piece that caused a small sensation. Well, since then, he's developed a kind of legendary status as an _enfant terrible_. They're casting his follow-up production, and Marcel thought I'd be perfect for a role in it, so they had me audition."

"That's cool," David offered, quietly enthusiastic. "When will you know if you've gotten the part?"

"I already know. The part is mine if I want it."

_"What?"_ David exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I just found out on Friday, and you and I hadn't really talked that much because you were in the middle of getting back out to Pittsburgh," Kurt excused himself. "Plus, I haven't told them whether I'm going to take it or not." The last part sounded nearly mumbled.

"Why not?" David sounded more concerned than surprised. "I thought that was kinda the whole reason why you're in New York."

"There are a couple of reasons," Kurt explained. "I have reservations. I don't know how I am going to feel about this particular production. It's almost guaranteed an audience; but, as flamboyant as I've been known to be at times, I'm a musical theater traditionalist. I haven't seen the libretto yet, but I have a feeling that this is going to be avant garde, industrial, steampunk kinda stuff."

"Don't you think you can do that?" David asked.

"Well, actually, I _know_ I _can_ ," Kurt answered, quietly confident. "It's that interpretive dance course I did at Oberlin. There's nothing like that at NYADA for some reason. Anyway, Marcel knows the writer, well, Marcel seems to know just about _everyone_ in the Off-Broadway community, and he does some panel-critiquing for various projects at several schools. He recognized me as someone he thought suited to the part."

"Well, I mean, ultimately the choice is yours," David said. "It sounds like it could be a good opportunity, but you shouldn't do it if you don't feel comfortable with it. Honestly, though, I think you're overthinking it."

"I plan to tell them tomorrow that I'm taking the part."

"That's cool," David chuckled. "Well, the only thing that sucks about it is that I doubt I'd be able to come see you in it."

"David, I'd never expect you to do that," Kurt countered, sounding serious.

"Yeah, I understand, with the distance and everything, but I really would _want_ to be there."

"And I _know_ that, David, and in a perfect world, I'd want you there, but it would be just above and beyond what I'd expect from the already _fantastic_ boyfriend you are."

David smiled, genuine. "Well, it sounds like you haven't totally decided anyway, and you have some things to think about." He paused before he continued, "And I have stuff to organize and set up and phone calls to make and people to say hello to, and it's still pretty early. I'll call you later tonight. Sometime before I crash for the night."

"Okay, that sounds good. Goodbye, David."

"Later, Kurt."

 

**Friday, October 10, 2014**

Kurt was ready early. Though it was over an hour before curtain, he was already wearing his first-act costume: a loose, flowing, billowy white shirt, open in the front, and form-fitting black pants. Though the pants appeared to be leather, they were actually a shiny, stretchy fabric which afforded Kurt more freedom of movement than leather could. He yet needed to apply his stage makeup, but, for the first act, the makeup was minimal: eyeliner and pale foundation. He wore temporary coloring in his hair to make it appear more red, and his hair itself was loose and flowing: he would, for the final act of the three-act performance, need to slick his hair back; and for his second-act costume, his makeup would be applied by an artist. The first act, however, was simple: simple costume, simple makeup, and waiting.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text message.

Dad: _Break a leg, kiddo!_ 6:42PM

Kurt smiled. Burt and Carole planned to attend the show at some point, but they couldn't work it into their schedule to be there for opening night. Next weekend, though, was a possibility.

Kurt had spoken to David about two hours earlier. He'd told David that the premier of this production wasn't making him nervous; and Kurt still didn't _feel_ nervous, not in any typical pre-show way at least. He wasn't in a lead role, but his role was weighty enough, a significant presence in each of the musical's three acts; and he'd been in numerous student productions at Oberlin and NYADA, but nothing so crucial as this. He would have loved David to be there, to see him in his first significant role, but it wasn't to be. If the buzz was good, which it was likely to be, and the show ran for several weeks, David could possibly see him later in the run. Part of Kurt hoped, though, that the run would be fairly short. Despite only three performances a week, Friday evening, Saturday evening, and Sunday matinee, he didn't want his work in this production to affect his schedule in a stressful manner: he was a full-time student at NYADA, a school of ambiguous demands, it was becoming increasingly apparent. Too many variables. That's the real reason why he wanted David to be there. When Kurt's mind was affected by indecision or anxiety, regardless of how minor, David was a stabilizing force for Kurt. Something as simple as David's touch or even the knowledge of his presence was enough to calm Kurt. When they'd spoken earlier, David was out with Garry and Jeff, possibly planning a stop for dinner. Kurt didn't remember asking David what he was doing that night; the conversation was all about Kurt and what he was feeling going into this performance. Strangely, though optimistic, Kurt's thoughts about this stage-life, this long-time dream of his, were, at the present moment, largely ambivalent.

Kurt's phone buzzed again.

Rachel: _I'll be watching you knock 'em dead tonight! Cheers!_ 6:45PM

Kurt was fairly calm, wistful. The pre-show adrenaline had not quite kicked him yet, and all he could think about was how much he'd appreciate David's presence right then. He pecked out a quick text message to David, telling him that he wanted him there, but he didn't send it. Ultimately he deleted it, fearing it would cause David to experience some element of guilt about his absence.

Kurt's role did secure him a private dressing room, however. There were only three main roles in the production, all male, and each of them were allotted a private dressing room. There were a few extras in the performance, and Fischer Theater, an intimate Off-Broadway venue seemed to have a disproportionate amount of dressing rooms for the theater's rather small occupancy; but, for this, Kurt was thankful. The show was not quite sold out at the last that Kurt had been told, but a sellout was likely. The writer had made a name for himself, and it was two years since his last new work. The timing was perfect, insuring a healthy turnout for opening night. The longevity of the run would depend upon its reception with the print and virtual scribes, but the name of the playwright, a name that had become something of a cult-following brand, insured at least two more weekends of performances, Kurt assumed.

A knock at the dressing room door grounded Kurt's floating thoughts. "Come in?"

The door opened slowly, and Brigitte, one of the girls who worked the stage entrance, entered Kurt's dressing room with two floral arrangements and a bouquet wrapped in sparkly tissue paper. Kurt almost squealed. Suddenly, this felt real. "Do you know who they're from?"

"This one is from Marcel," Brigitte informed in her nasal regional dialect, referring to a tasteful arrangement of red roses. A larger arrangement of autumn-colored flowers bore a card which Brigitte read aloud. "This one says, 'Knock 'em dead, kid, from Rachel'."

"Thank you for bringing them, Brigitte," Kurt smiled and nodded as he carefully pulled back the tissue paper which was covering the bouquet. Inside was an enormous arrangement, likely two dozen roses. Kurt looked for a card and couldn't find one.

"Oh," Brigitte interjected as Kurt looked up from the bouquet, "The person who brought that one told me to tell you that they'll be out by the stage door until the house doors open."

Brigitte exited the room, quietly closing the door behind herself. Kurt considered the bouquet which he cradled in his arm, a mix of roses in two colors: bright pink blooms and an equal number of ones with stark, black, velvety petals. Kurt started, placed the bouquet on the counter before him, stood, and bolted through the threshold leaving the door ajar in his haste.

Kurt worked his way quickly through the tight corridor lined with dressing room doors, squirming past two others along the way, to the entrance where Brigitte stood sentry and the glass double-doors led to the foyer. Kurt pushed through the first set of doors to see David, outside beyond the second set of doors, smirking and standing in the darkening city amid the misty October drizzle. He was wearing his black pea coat, a charcoal-gray sweater, and black pants; hanging over his neck was the scarf Kurt had given him earlier in the year: a shot of intense blue among the monochrome.

"David! What are you doing here?" Kurt's voice was loud and shrill as he pushed to the outside and flung himself at the larger young man.

David chucked upon Kurt's impact, catching the smaller man. The surface of David's jacket was damp with the drizzle and his hair was dotted with tiny droplets of moisture. "When I told Garry and Jeff about you getting this role and opening night being tonight, they said that I shouldn't miss it. They had nothing going on this weekend, and all of my school work was caught-up, so, they said, 'we're making a road-trip'."

"David, get in here," Kurt held and tugged David's arm, pulling him toward the performers' entrance and into the building. Kurt moved as if possessed, past Bridget and into the narrow corridor.

"Where are we going?" David said through a delirious laugh.

"My dressing room."

"Are you even _allowed_ to have me in here?"

"I don't care if I am or not."

Kurt nudged David through the ajar door to the dressing room and slammed the door behind them. Once inside, Kurt backed David against the closed door and took in his grinning countenance. Kurt could only shake his head and stare slack-jawed into David's face.

"So, I guess you figured out that those roses were from me, then?" David spoke, affected dimness.

"The color-combination was a dead giveaway," Kurt answered through loud breaths, affected seriousness. "Where are Garry and Jeff?"

"They're getting the tickets," David answered. "They called for them earlier today. I'm going to meet them in front by the main doors."

" _You_ are _infuriating_ , David Paul Karofsky. You are the _best kind_ of infuriating I can imagine."

At this David's smile became huge before he asked, "Um, are you gonna kiss me?"

Kurt raised himself upward and met David's lips with his. It was hard, harder than either of them wanted it to be, but it was real. Kurt backed off slightly, making the kiss softer.

As their lips parted, Kurt inhaled loudly, almost a gasp, sounding as if he needed to catch his breath. "David. You are _so_ romantic. I love you, I love you, I love you."

David laughed and bit his lip through a smile for a moment. "Um,... can... I _crash_ at your place tonight? And tomorrow night?"

"Oh, like I'd _let_ you sleep anywhere else tonight after a stunt like this," Kurt grinned, almost wickedly, at David. "My place is a mess, but I don't care. My man will need to get used to my habits eventually anyway."

David laughed as Kurt pulled him down to his level, David pressing his head to Kurt's shoulder. "Is it gonna be okay with Rachel?" David asked in a voice stressed by his bent posture.

"Yes, and I wouldn't much care if it wasn't okay with Rachel. My apartment is _my_ space, even though it happens to be in the basement of her house. Where are your friends staying?"

"Uh, Jeff and Garry got a hotel room for the two nights," David explained. "I'll be leaving with them Sunday afternoon, but you and I will have tonight after the performance and all day tomorrow and tomorrow night and Sunday morning for us to be together."

"David, you have just made my weekend. In fact, this will probably be the best weekend I have until Thanksgiving break. Now, I need to get ready for the show, but, before I let you go, I am going to give you a huge kiss right now; then you and I are going to walk back out there. I'm going to get Brigitte to give you passes for you and your friends so you can wait for me back here after the show. Then I'm going to walk you outside and around the corner to the front of the building, and I'm going to kiss you again under the marquee. After the performance, there is going to be an opening-night party we can all go to if we're all up for that."

David raised his head up again, looking down into Kurt's face with a smile almost too happy for words.

"It's gonna be a good night and a great weekend."

 

* * *

 

Kurt unlocked the door to his basement apartment, and David followed him into the darkness. Both were trying consciously to be quiet. Kurt fumbled slightly for the lightswitch, eventually illuminating the room. David was carrying a white bag from a deli-restaurant and a large overnight bag. Once inside the room, Kurt quietly shut and locked the door behind them.

"Late-night cab-rides after I've been out partying with my man, being able to get reuben sandwiches to take home at one-thirty in the morning, getting a little beer-buzz on without worrying about needing to drive anywhere: what's not to love?" David spoke in a hushed tone as he unwrapped their sandwiches on the small dinette table. "I think I could get used to New York City. And holy crap, these reubens are huge."

"That's how they do it in New York," Kurt explained. "I am really feeling carnivorous tonight."

"You?" David asked, surprised, "the healthy guy?"

"Listen, David, I love Rachel dearly, but we eat together, sometimes, I think we eat together too often; and sometimes I swear I get to the point that I could kill somebody for a Big Mac or something."

David snickered. "Yeah, I guess even really good vegan food will get to you after a while. Still, though, I don't think I could eat a whole one of these right now."

Why don't we just split one and put the other in the refrigerator?" Kurt spoke, sultry, advancing toward David. "We can have the other for breakfast tomorrow morning."

David smirked, nearly a double-take. "I never figured you for... " David's voice trailed off as Kurt drew closer. "... the kinda guy... " Kurt drew still closer. "... who'd eat, like,... " David's voice became a whisper; he could feel Kurt's breath. "...last night's dinner food for breakfast."

Their lips met, softly at first, then firm, deeper, holding, then moving, finally pulling away as softly as they'd begun.

"You taste like white wine." David whispered, a small smirk.

"You taste like imported beer and heaven," Kurt countered, causing David to fall into quiet laughter and look away. "I'm hungry. Let's eat."

Kurt retrieved forks and knives and glasses of water for for their post-midnight repast as David re-wrapped one of the sandwiches and placed it into the refrigerator.

The two young men seated themselves side-by-side, sharing the sizable sandwich.

"So," Kurt began, "honestly, tell me what you thought of the musical."

David, in mid-chew, continued chewing for a moment, then swallowed while blotting his mouth with a napkin. "It was weird. Parts of it creeped me out. I mean, it was intense, and _you_ were amazing and you _looked_ amazing, but I'm not sure it was the best choice for my first-ever experience with live musical theater."

Kurt nodded. "Just so you know, that's the kind of reaction it was going for. There are people into those disturbing works, though they don't always translate well into musicals."

"I liked the music a lot, actually, but even that kinda creeped me out," David said. "Your voice was amazing as always, though." David, having had difficulty holding the unruly sandwich together, was now using a knife and fork to eat it; Kurt had been using utensils for the entire time.

"What did you think of my second-act, um, _costume_?"

David swallowed another mouthful of sandwich before speaking. "It surprised me. It was kinda... amazing-looking. I had to kinda think of it as not being you, though."

"Well, you shouldn't think of it as me. It's a role I'm playing. This is me now." Kurt cut off a bite-sized piece of the sandwich and forked it into his mouth.

"Well, I know it's a role," David backtracked. "Seeing you naked from the waist-up with your body all painted just kinda hit me. It was no longer my Kurt playing a role; it was suddenly a totally different person." David's voice became a bit quieter. "I'm just glad there was nothing, like, full-frontal. I don't know if I could have handled that."

Kurt shook his head as he swallowed a bite of the sandwich and chased it with a sip of water. "I wouldn't have taken the role if it had gone that direction."

The two sat silent for a moment, David's face forming a subtle smile at Kurt's words.

"What did your friends think?" Kurt asked.

David smiled somewhat wider. "Jeff and Garry were into it, actually. They're into some crazy art-films and stuff. Jeff especially. Garry's tastes are a little more mainstream. It seemed like the theater was packed, and the rest of the audience seemed to really like it."

"It's a small theater, but it did sell out, and, yeah, we got called back out eight times. That means they definitely liked it."

"I think you got the loudest applause of any of them," David noted.

"Well, it was the _edgy_ role, but, yeah, I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or if I was actually getting the loudest response," Kurt added. "The main actor, the guy playing the Whelm character, he's a nice enough person, but he's really full of himself. I hope he doesn't hold it against me that if he thinks the audience liked me more than him."

"If he's that full of himself, he probably didn't even notice," David said, slight sarcasm in his voice.

"I'm hungry," Kurt turned his head, eyes meeting David's.

"We just ate," David shot Kurt a confused expression.

"Not for that." Kurt dismissed.

David smiled, understanding Kurt's words.

The two fell onto Kurt's full-sized bed roughly. Kurt, standing on his knees between David's legs, reached for the bottom edge of David's sweater and peeled it upward, revealing the white T-shirt beneath. Kurt unbuttoned and removed his own casual dress shirt and bent downward, initiating forward, aggressive kisses to David's welcoming mouth. They parted, and Kurt reached up under David's T-shirt, lifting it upward and off as he had done with the sweater before it. Kurt's hands were on David's chest, moving, coaxing David to a downward position. Their lips met again, wet and hot: sweaty skin.

David exhaled loudly upon their mouths parting, nearly panting, face transfixed.

Kurt spoke in an urgent whisper. "I feel so pumped, David, because I kicked ass tonight and because you are here and you're so sexy and you're turning me on so much."

David smiled nervously. "I know where this is going."

"Oh yeah?" Kurt's voice pitched high in the quiet. "Where's that?"

"Uh," David exhaled, "you wanna, um... "

"I want to _what_ , David?"

"Uh, you know," David pronounced through a quiet, nervous chuckle.

"I want to fuck you," Kurt's eyes were on David's; Kurt's smile was playful.

David chuckled, further embarrassed by Kurt's bluntness.

"Do you want that?" Kurt pressed.

"Yeah," David's face succumbed to a smile. "You were so amazing tonight, I want that, but, like, it's been a while for me. You haven't done that to me since, like, Spring break, and you seem so, uh, _intense_ right now."

"I love you, David. I'm excited and I want to make you feel amazing. I've never hurt you, have I?"

David smiled, almost a small laugh. "No. N-never."

"Then what are you afraid of?" Kurt smiled, his voice mere air. "I want to touch you. Inside."

 

**Saturday, October 11, 2014**

David woke lying on his side. Kurt was sleeping beside him, forehead lightly pressed against David's chest. David's eyes drank in the curves of Kurt's face and perceived the texture of Kurt's hair. He could feel the residual sensations of last night's activity, and it felt incredible: Kurt had given David a passionate and thorough penetration. That David was almost nervous at the onset, which he sometimes was, and that David's quickly-passing anxiety was, in some measure, brought about by Kurt's enthusiasm and playful aggression seemed laughable at this time: given the throes of ecstasy he experienced a few hours before and the physical reminders of that exquisite exchange which he felt in himself at this moment, David's state of mind was nearly euphoric as he took in Kurt's sleeping visage.

David craned his head and looked across Kurt's basement-level studio apartment. Some amount of morning sunlight was flooding in through two window-wells on one side of the room, giving the space a dim radiance. The clock on the wall near the kitchen area read nine-forty; the digital clock on Kurt's nightstand displayed nine-forty-three. As Kurt's limbs began to shift slowly, David drew his attention back onto Kurt's face, stroking Kurt's cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers.

"Hey there, my amazing man," David spoke softly, some morning scratchiness apparent in his voice.

Kurt opened his eyes smiling to see David's face, serious in expression but subtly warm. Kurt hummed, almost purred before speaking, "Good morning, David."

David leaned inward, kissing Kurt's forehead and backing away to take in his face again, smiling this time.

"Do you know what time it is?" Kurt asked, unable to see a clock from his position beside David's expansive chest.

"It's about quarter-to-ten," David answered. "It's Saturday. Do you have anywhere to be or anything you need to do today?"

"Not until later, when I need to do the show again tonight," Kurt informed. "What are you going to do when I'm doing that?"

"Probably just hang out with Garry and Jeff," David supposed. "See if we can do some after-dark sightseeing or something. It's only a few hours. I'm sure we can find something to do." David paused for a moment, still looking at Kurt's face, feeling somewhat awed. "I had a great time last night. Even before we came back here."

Kurt chuckled for a moment before his voice perked, "Oh, what do you think of Marcel now after hanging out with him last night?"

"Aaah, you were right," David rolled his eyes, defeated. "He's hilarious and awesome. I should have known better than to doubt you. He was, like, the only fun person there other than Garry and Jeff and me and you. Everyone else seemed too stuck on themselves to have a good time."

"Oh, some of them are okay," Kurt replied, "but some of those hardcore theater people are just weird."

"Well, it was my first experience with that, but I guess I'll need to get used to it," David offered, smiling, reassuring. "Are you hungry yet?"

"A little. Nothing major. You?"

"Same. I can wait."

David propped himself on an elbow and reached his arm around Kurt who turned on his side and pulled himself closer to David. David slid his fingers under Kurt's chin, raising his face to the level of David's own. The two exchanged kisses and smiles. Kurt lifted his hands to let them rest on David's head and his fingers to wander through David's sleep-disturbed hair. The close-proximity touching was something they both took as a luxury.

"I wish I could do this, like, any time I wanted to," David whispered, eyes softly locked on Kurt's.

"I know, but, you're here now," Kurt uttered a scratchy reply. "Let's just enjoy it now while we can and look forward to the day when we're together all the time."

David's face became a firm smile.

Kurt's eyes widened as he motioned to sit upright, scanning around the room for clothes before he pulled himself from beneath the comforter. "I want to check some blogs to see if the show's been reviewed yet."

"Do you think anyone would have a review up this soon?" David asked casually, reaching and snagging his boxer-briefs from the floor.

"Yes, these theater people, particularly the ones with the blogs, that's what they live for," Kurt informed as he slid himself into a pair of flannel lounge pants. "They'll be up all night posting reviews. It's almost like a contest to see who can have their review up first."

David walked toward the kitchen area. "I'll get some coffee going," he called out to Kurt as Kurt booted his laptop and seated himself at his desk.

David returned after about five minutes had passed. He was holding two mugs of coffee. He placed them on a small table beside the desk and pulled one of the dinette chairs, placed it next to Kurt, and seated himself.

"Here's your coffee," David said as he raised the mugs from the small table and placed one into Kurt's open hand.

"Thank you, David," Kurt smiled as he moved the mug to his lips, first testing the temperature, then taking a sip into his mouth and reaching to rest the mug on the desk next to the screen.

"Find anything yet?" David asked, reaching his arm over Kurt's shoulder and softly rubbing at the base of Kurt's neck.

"Mmm, can't concentrate if you're going to do that," Kurt scolded playfully. "There's one I'm looking for in particular. He's a favorite blogger of the Off-Broadway set. He's not a snob, and he tells it like he sees it."

"Most of these bloggers have, like, secret identities?" David asked, interest piqued.

"Most of them, yes," Kurt answered. "Some of them are disgruntled people who couldn't make it in theater so they use their blogs to bash everything, but this guy seems more genuinely interested in writing about theater objectively than carrying out some vendetta." Kurt found and clicked a link. "I found it. Yes, he's posted a review."

David leaned his head toward Kurt and Kurt turned the screen to share it with David. The page came up, and Kurt scrolled to the review entry, clicking again to access its full text.

"Why do they spell 'theater' like that?" Davis asked.

Kurt shook his head. "Hard to say. It's either throw-back, traditionalist snobbery or hipster-ironic."

The two turned their attention to the screen and read silently.

 

_OuttaMyBloggin: Art, Theatre, and other Unnecessary Stuff I Can't Live Without  
_ _Edition 10102014  
_ _Musical Theatre Review:_ Death Rattle of a Housefly  
 _Book and Music by Crux and Nexus (Brent Cadray and Norman Pitluski)  
_ _Directed by Avery Johansen  
_ _Fischer Theater, Now through October 26, Fri/Sat 8PM, Sun 2PM  
_ _Players: Keith Drayton, Andrew Kral, Kurt Hummel_

_How does one begin a review for this work?  
_ _Less than ten years ago, one Brent Cadray was writing bizarro one-act plays with spare set design and titles like_ Screwjob _,_ Snakediver _, and_ Forklift Meat _. Sure, his plays were weird, but they stuck with the audience: once we'd seen one of Cadray's plays, parts of it were with us forever. Scary, huh? What's scarier yet is that somehow, it seemed like Cadray could see part of us as well. His plays' weirdo-factor made him a rising star among the most fringe elements of the avant garde. That his plays had some undeniable power drew endorsements from the establishment critics. Even the snobs, barf-bags in hand, were forced to take notice and pretend to like Cadray's work._

_Fast-forward to three years ago. Having made a name for himself among the subterranean element of the theater scene, he decided that he wanted to write a musical. Screams of sellout rang from his feral adherents. Not to worry, though. Music was represented only by its most rudimentary, some might say debatable, definition. Cadray had partnered with equally wacko composer Norman Pitluski. They christened their partnership Crux and Nexus and the result of this collaboration was_ Omnivore Headbasket _. It was a loud, pounding, draining minimalist monster of musical theater, and one which the audiences couldn't shake. The critics raved. The fanbase was thrilled. The snobs still gagged. Cadray had found success in another theatrical form. So why stop now?  
  
_ _Crux and Nexus premiered their latest work of musical theater,_ Death Rattle of a Housefly _, tonight at the Fischer, and everything seemed to click. It's the story of a self-pitying everyman named Whelm who has everything he'd ever need and yet still falls victim to temptation in the form of, you guessed it, a tempter (no, really, that's the character's name: Tempter). Pulling Whelm in the opposite direction is an overbearing authority figure, named, oddly enough, Authority. Authority seems to take on the persona of boss, police officer, public official, and wife at various points, tormenting Whelm in ways both subtle and not-so-subtle. Tempter appears variously at times romantic, erotic, and ultimately, controlling. If this sounds like a broad palette, it's intended to be. If it sounds minimalist, it definitely is. If it sounds boring, it's not._

_The dialogue is potent enough to get under the skin of any audience. The spare set design makes brilliant use of color, or, perhaps I should say, lack of color. It's so thoroughly desaturated that, upon the first appearance of Tempter, one is actually stunned by his red hair: it's literally the only color in front of us. All expressionist angles and directional lighting, shafts of shadow, and gray, boxy industrial shapes; one is actually stunned that the music and songs are actually ear-wormy, organic to the action, more tribal than mechanical, more accessible than obtuse. In fact, the entire production is accessible in a way that the constructive and impartial mind finds baffling._

_There is one misstep in this whole proceeding, however. It seems that Mr. Cadray has written this as something of an acting-piece for whomever portrays the part of Whelm. That doesn't quite work in this particular production, though it might with a different cast. It's not that Keith Drayton, the man who plays the part of Whelm, isn't proficient or is somehow at fault, but rather he's outshined by newcomer Kurt Hummel in the role as Tempter._

_Drayton is no doubt familiar to most anyone reading this, having been a fixture in the Off-Broadway circuit for almost ten years now. Hummel, however, is currently a student at NYADA, and how that snob-school of cookie-cutter performers has managed to generate so unusual an artist as Hummel is beyond this particular reviewer's scope. The second act moment when Tempter rises from the debris of the stage, body and face painted in stark black-and-white freeform, like a monochromatic Keith Haring jigsaw puzzle come-to-life, is one I'm not likely to forget anytime soon. That Hummel's voice can shift from the first act's intentionally maudlin melodies to the second act's siren songs to the third act's mocking nail-in-the-coffin finale likely has the sheeple who run NYADA at a loss with what to do with the guy. Make no mistake, though, and the audience agreed:_ Death Rattle of a Housefly _belongs to Hummel._

_If you're going to see one piece of musical theater in the current season, this shouldn't be it. If you want to see the weirdest thing going, this isn't that either, not even close. If you want to see how the up-and-coming playwright hero of the tragically eccentric can win mainstream hearts and minds without selling his soul, this is as good an example of that as anything out there right now._

 

The two sat silent. David fidgeted quietly after he finished reading the piece, waiting until he was certain Kurt had read it.

"Um, it seems like a good review," David said, sounding uncertain. "Is it a good review?"

Kurt nodded before answering. "Yes, it's a really good review for the writers and, um, for _me_." Kurt sounded quiet, stunned.

"It kinda sounds like they're harshing on NYADA, doesn't it?" David puzzled.

Kurt sighed. "Yes, and I've often felt like, if I was on the outside, given what I know now, I'd probably feel that way myself about the place. It's like, how many of any given musical theater stereotypes does the world need? Honestly, I think I learned more about being an interesting performer at Oberlin. All they seem to be interested about at NYADA is perfecting things which have already been done. Sure, it's prestigious. I still have my idols, I guess, the performers I look up to; but I don't want to be like them like I did when I was in high school. As a performer, I don't want to be thought of as some guy who could follow in someone else's footsteps. I want to establish something that only I have done, and only I can do."

David nodded, listening. "So, what does all that mean?"

Kurt laughed slightly. "Nothing in the immediate, really. I keep going to school at NYADA. I'm in my third year; it'd be foolish to not finish at this point."

"Do you think this thing you're in right now, this musical, is going to affect anything?" David asked, concerned. "The way you're treated at the school, or, maybe, the way other people in the theater community look at you?"

Kurt lifted his head and addressed David directly with a small-but-sincere smile. "I won't know that until it happens. And I can't waste time thinking about it or even worrying about it. As much as some of the attitudes of the people that teach me or the people that I work with might bother me, I love so much about this city and where I am right now." Kurt reached his arm around David and pulled him close. "I am so happy that you were here last night, to see me. I'm so glad to be having this time with you right now. I really can't put into words what this means to me, to have you here."

David smiled. Kurt's words made him sublimely happy. The two sat next to each other for a time, in each other's arms, close, touching, ignoring the laptop screen as it went from blog to screensaver to blackout.

"Hungry yet?" David eventually asked.

"Yes," Kurt replied softly.

"Last night's reuben sandwich for breakfast?"

"That sounds perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced song: "At My Most Beautiful" by REM
> 
> Author's note: the title "Death Rattle of a Housefly" was jointly conceived on a sweltering July afternoon with my David and much laughter.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 14,000

**Chapter 41**

 

**Monday, February 2, 2015**

Barely three weeks into the spring semester, and David was already feeling a grind. There were times when the winter time in Pittsburgh was absolutely wonderful. Today, though, was not one of those times. There were small patches of snow on the ground, but they were crunchy and gray; the air was bitterly cold and dry; and the sidewalks and streets were dusted in a powdery-white residue of road-salt. Night fell early this time of year; and the sky on this particular day was the color of a gray granite tombstone at midday turning bruised blue-black by five o'clock.

Running in the morning, weather permitting this time of year, was something David did more out of habit at this point, something he endured out of ritual rather than something he did by choice: he could remember times when he looked forward to the practice. Actually, he was enduring everything at this point: classes, running, working out, tutoring. Though he did receive some element of enjoyment, personal satisfaction in some measure from all of these things, that they felt like a chore remained. The moment he didn't feel the need to make his face friendly or approachable or polite, he turned to stone to endure the walk to and from campus buildings or to his next job or back to his apartment. He knew this was temporary, though. David knew that the weather would break in a couple of months; the hours of daylight would be greater.

Through all of this, though, the most crucial factor in determining David's mood was Kurt. David's thoughts about his future with Kurt drove him to endure. That David's spring break was six weeks away was a short-term incentive: he'd travel to New York City to share that time with Kurt. Their periodic times together were what kept David motivated, but David felt that it soon wouldn't be enough for him. Thanksgiving break, the semester break, Christmas in Lima and New Years again in New York: these times were all welcome and wonderful, but seemed all-too-brief; and the time with Kurt in New York City for the annual New Years Eve festivities seemed to be colored by an undefined level of preoccupation on Kurt's part. At times, he felt that he'd been as patient as he could be, and he felt his patience dwindling. Garry, Jeff, and the rest of his friends from school, workout activities, and the running club were good diversions, and David truly enjoyed the tutoring work he did; but these things were becoming increasingly secondary for him. David's dream of building a life with Kurt, closer to becoming a tangible reality every day, also became a source of increasing unease: the more it took shape in David's mind, the more he understood and realized the resources and goals necessary to flesh out that dream, the more impatient he became, the more trapped by time's sluggish progress he felt.

David's night class ended at eight-thirty. Before that, he had eaten dinner with Garry and Jeff (they lived nearby, and, if they were cooking, they'd rather have David eat with them than subsist on junk food or skip dinner entirely) and worked two late-afternoon tutoring appointments. His apartment was five blocks away from the building where his last class was held. The night was cold, but the bitterness had subsided slightly; it had been pitch-dark for hours. He rounded the corner to the building which held his apartment, the collar of his heavy, black coat turned upward protecting the back of his neck from the air's chill. He approached the porch and reached under the metal flap of his mailbox, retrieving the day's mail. He fumbled with typical junk-mail and coupon flyers, trying to gather them into his hands when a large, rather heavy envelope flopped out of the unruly mess of paper making a plopping sound on the foundation of the entryway. He lifted the envelope curiously: it was a typical nine-inch-by-twelve-inch manilla envelope, the type which typically contain official documents, legal contracts, or printed matter. In the darkness, he could see that the address was handwritten, but he could discern nothing else. He gathered the mail together with his school items as well as he could and, fumbling with his keys, unlocked the door and gained entry into the foyer. That he made it to the top of the stairs without losing control of the mail, he considered a small triumph, and it crossed his mind that one of Kurt's yet-to-be-designed man-bags might be very useful right now, from a utilitarian perspective, that is, of course. Unlocking his apartment door with more grace than the door downstairs from the outside, David entered his studio apartment, the small amount of light spilling in from the hallway, and made his way in the semi-darkness toward the area in front of the television, as quickly as possible, dropping the disheveled mass of mail on the coffeetable before it had a chance to get away from him. He spun and, with his hands now free of the burden of the mail, swung his hand toward the light switch, making contact, and illuminating the room.

David stood still and breathed deeply a few times; the stress-level of the time of year, the day, the weather, and the task of the last two minutes decompressed slightly. He walked to the kitchen area and dispensed a glass of water, taking it with him to the coffeetable area and seating himself to inspect the mail and, specifically, the large envelope which piqued his curiosity slightly. Reaching for and taking the envelope, flipping it to address-side up in one reckless motion, David recognized the perfect penmanship of the handwritten address immediately. It was from Kurt.

Flipping the thick envelope again, David hastily peeled the flap which sealed the package and turned it, open side toward the surface of the coffeetable. Five slippery, glossy magazines slid out of the envelope and onto the tabletop. David gathered them into his hands and puzzled as he flipped them right-side-up. In his hands were five copies of the same, apparently current issue, issue of _MenMinutiae_ magazine. He'd seen the magazine around at bookstores, and there was always a couple of copies at Kurt's place when he visited. Though heavy on men's fashion, David discovered on the few occasions that he'd perused the magazine that he found some of the articles interesting (the ones dealing with exercise and fitness in particular); and he found the men's fashion photography easy on the eyes (and, even more oddly, entertained thoughts that he himself might actually feel comfortable in some of these cutting-edge fashions). David quickly searched the periodicals in his hands for a note or letter. There was none. Laying the magazines on the coffeetable, he checked to see if a note perhaps had not fallen out with the magazines and was possibly still in the envelope. Negative: there was no written correspondence; it was then, however, that David noticed a bright pink sticky-note poking out from the pages of one of the magazines. Following this obvious signal, he opened to the marked page.

It placed him in the magazine's current fashion spread, and he found himself looking at a full-page photo of his very own Kurt Hummel, body-painted in his second-act makeup and costume from the role he played in the last year's offbeat musical. His eyes found a block of text in the corner of the page.

_Off-Broadway newcomer, part-time fashion designer, and current student at NYADA, Kurt Hummel will be returning to his role as Tempter in last fall's bizarre sleeper,_ Death Rattle of a Housefly _. Tempted? Yes we are! Incidentally,_ Death Rattle _returns to the Fischer for a limited time beginning February 7 and running weekends through February 28. Bring your anti-Valentine._

David turned the page to see images of Kurt occupying both left and right leaves of the spread: on the left, he was dressed in a form-fitting, casual double-breasted winter coat with a silky scarf at his throat, an industrial-looking brooch on his lapel, and a striking-but-tasteful leather bag hanging from his shoulder; the opposite page showed Kurt dressed formally in a stunning and dynamic but unconventionally-cut tuxedo. In both photographs, Kurt's face held an expression of sophistication: the photo on the left was a strong, pensive look while the right-side image was a smiling face of approachable elegance. The text on both of these pages identified the label of the winter coat, the scarf, the brooch, the bag, and the formalwear as Kurt's own KayeLiz mark.

David reached for his phone. He was slightly puzzled. The photos were impressive, and he was proud of Kurt, but there was a feeling of anxiety in him sparked by the images.

"Good evening, David," Kurt's voice crackled musically through the phone.

"Hey, Kurt," David nearly stammered, words clipped and staccato-sounding. "I got those... magazines you sent me today. It's, um, really cool." David's tone sounded less convincing than his words. "How'd that all happen?"

"Well, do you remember when I was back in Lima for the semester break, and I told you they were going to bring _Death Rattle_ back in February for the anti-Valentine's Day run?" Kurt began.

"Yeah?"

"Well," Kurt furthered, "do you remember when I told you that they did a photo-session of me and the other two actors for a magazine article about the musical?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I guess when they were assembling the content of the latest issue, they dropped the article about the musical, and the only pictures they decided to use were mine," Kurt explained.

There was an uncomfortable silence over the phone for a moment before David spoke. "Well, that's kinda cool for you, right? I mean, they mentioned your clothes and stuff." David's voice sounded anxious but slightly more at-ease.

Kurt snapped his tongue and huffed. "Well, yes, it's good for me. I mean any kind of publicity is good for someone like me. Since the magazine hit the stands last Tuesday, I've had three times the hits to the webpage for my clothing designs and more emails than I've been able to answer thoroughly. The downside is that I am still a full-time student. I know that many of the emails I've received I know aren't going to amount to anything serious, but it would be difficult to turn down a request for a tuxedo like the one I'm wearing in that picture. I mean, that, in itself, would pay for four months' rent."

"That'd be really cool," David nearly mumbled, _"I... I guess."_

"David, something's wrong," Kurt observed. "What's going on?"

David's voice opened up. "It's this time of year; it's just killing me, Kurt." David's voice had a hint of a squeak, nearly a whine. "There've been, like, two weeks straight where I swear I haven't seen the sun at all: just totally gray during the day. Sometimes it gets, like, bitter cold. It gets dark so early this time of year that it's kinda depressing. Three years now, I can't be with you on Valentine's Day, and I hate that. And I know... I know that the weather's gonna break, and I'm gonna go visit you for spring break, and I'm so looking forward to that, I'm gonna be really glad to see you for that week, but, dammit, Kurt, I'm getting impatient. First two years of this was okay, but now I'm starting to feel kinda stressed-out. Seeing you over Thanksgiving was awesome. Christmas in Lima was great too." David's voice softened, almost sounding exhausted but entirely sincere. "New Years was over before I knew it."

The two hung in silence on the phone for a moment before Kurt spoke, quietly, almost pleading. "David, uh, I don't know what I can do. I want to be with you too, and, yes, I understand that this can be a pretty depressing time of year. But, like you said, the weather will be breaking soon, and..."

"Kurt," David's voice was soft but determined as he cut Kurt short. "You remember when we graduated high school? That whole year up to that point? You helped straighten my head out so much. You helped me become somebody that I'm really happy to be, and then, when we got to the point where we both graduated, there were a couple of times that you were having some problems with things. You remember that?"

"Yes," Kurt spoke quietly.

"And do you remember when that happened, like the stuff with Blaine at school and you not getting into NYADA at first, I was there? In, like, ten minutes, I was there."

"U-huh."

"And you didn't have to ask, right?" David continued, soft but intent. "And sometimes you weren't very open about what was bothering you or what was wrong, but I was still there, right?"

"Yes you were, David," Kurt's tone was calm, certain.

"How did I do with that, Kurt? Did I do okay?"

" _Yes_ , David," Kurt's voice was quiet, but sincere and respectful, direct. "You said and did exactly what I needed someone to say and do. I shouldn't need to tell you that. You've said before that I'm the strong one, but, when I'm like that, when something's bothering me, you help me deal with it, sometimes in such a take-charge kind-of way. You _are_ strong, David."

There was a brief silence before David responded again, voice calm and clear. "That makes me feel amazing, and maybe I need to be told that, to be reminded. It makes me feel like I've done some good for you like you've done for me."

"You _have_ , David."

"Okay, see, not only is this time of year kinda rough for me, and not only am I kinda impatient, more than I was a year ago, but I'm nervous and I'm anxious because I think,... no..., I _know_ that something's up with you. There's something you're holding back. As great as it felt when we were together over Thanksgiving and Christmas, I could tell that something was up with you New Year's Eve. I even kinda felt it the morning after your opening night last October. I can hear it in your voice as we talk right now." David inhaled loudly, slightly shaky-sounding. "I can't come to you, like, you're not a fifteen-minute commute away from me like you were after we graduated." David paused, conspicuous and heavy. "You know that if I could be there right now, I would. I plan on being out there the seventh of March. That's when my spring break starts. That's as good as I can do." David's voice quieted, as if defeated before he spoke again. "I'd really like to know what's bothering you before then, but I can't make you talk about it if you don't want to."

"David, I..." Kurt began, but did not finish.

After a few seconds of silence, David spoke. "Kurt, what is it? I _know_ something's wrong. Are you going to tell me now? I mean, I _want_ to know." David's words were as careful as they were caring. "There's something you don't want to tell me."

"David," Kurt began, his voice nearly a whimper. "I feel like I messed up, and more than once. For the entire time I was in high school, I wanted to be here. I wanted this New York stage career. I wanted to get into this exclusive school, and I achieved that, and then I looked at their way of doing things and the way they just want to turn out the next play-by-the-rules next-big-thing, and I'm almost disgusted. I mean, my whole life I've been different from everyone else, and I've celebrated that, and here they're telling me to be the same as everything that came before me."

"Okay," David said, trying to rationalize what Kurt said. "So you get your formal education from NYADA, you're a little over a year from completing that, but you can perform in the more off-the-wall stuff that appeals more to the innovative things that you can bring to the art of live theater. You've already shown that you can do that."

"The people at NYADA are really not happy with my choice to be in underground works. It seems their whole reason for existence is to populate musicals written by the Andrew Lloyd Webers of the world. The more of a name I make for myself in Off-Broadway productions, the more of a stain on their precious reputation I apparently become. The thing is, I was initially hesitant to be in this underground work. Now that I see what I'm capable of doing in it, I'm not sure I want to be in anything mainstream."

David responded slowly. "Well, then, wait until you're finished at NYADA, and then just be in the kinds of things you think you can really bring something to. Be the guy who could have had this posh Broadway career but walked away from it and chose to do the things he really _wanted_ to do instead."

"That's not working for me either, David." Kurt's quivering voice betrayed that he was on the verge of tears. "The strong notices which my performance earned bothered the other two leads, the main one especially. He comes from a moneyed family intent on buying him a theatrical career. He's been doing the Off-Broadway circuit for years, trying to make a name for himself, then he gets upstaged by some student who's doing their first significant role; and he's got friends in the theatrical community all over the city. "

"I had no idea that's what was happening, Kurt."

Kurt exhaled before continuing. "That magazine article fiasco made it worse. Everyone involved thought that it was going to promote the whole production: the writer, the composer, the director, and the actors. As it turns out, they scrap the entire article and just use pictures of _me_ , in my own designs, no less. It almost seems like an advertisement for _me_."

"Well, they _mentioned_ the musical in the magazine," David consoled, hollow.

"In a caption to a picture of _me_ ," Kurt nearly exclaimed. "When I went to rehearsal Wednesday, it was like a hush fell over the room when I walked in. Nobody wanted to talk to me. It's like I'm an outcast from both worlds. The established end of it doesn't want me. They feel I've betrayed their name by taking a role that's beneath their lofty standards of excellence. More like standards of standard. Then, due to some good reviews of me overshadowing the big guy on the independent scene, I'm not welcome there either. The pictures of me in the magazine just added to their resentment. Both parties felt insulted, like, 'look at this kid who thinks he can make it without us'."

"Kurt, I really had no idea," David spoke, genuinely sympathetic. "Why didn't you want to tell me this stuff?"

There was a long pause as Kurt breathed loudly. "David, I'm _embarrassed_."

"Kurt, you've got no reason to be embarrassed," David reassured. "You got into an exclusive school. Two exclusive schools, really, if you count Oberlin. You landed a significant role in a production by a significant writer, and you received great reviews for it."

"What does any of that mean if I can't make a go of it?" Kurt questioned, pointedly.

"People like the clothes you're designing," David offered. "And I know you like doing that, and it couldn't have happened at all if you weren't in New York right now."

Silence followed: the almost definitive silence that follows a eureka-moment.

"Damn your logic, David."

"It might not be exactly what you planned," David furthered, "but it might be something really great."

"Y'know, David, once I finish school, I'm not so sure I want to stay here after this whole mess. I love so many things about New York City, and I've met so many excellent people here, but the whole reason for me wanting to be here will be effectively shut down for me. I mean, if I want to do the fashion-designing thing, I can do that anywhere, right? I... I could commute to New York when I needed to, maybe every few months."

"You'd know that more than _I_ would," David answered quietly.

"David, the only times I've felt really right lately are when I am with you," Kurt admitted. "It's felt like this since the fall when you came to see me on opening night. I was a mess of ungrounded thoughts and feelings until I saw you standing outside. I was able to put my mixed feelings about New York out of my head during Thanksgiving and the semester break until we came back for New Years, and I thought about that second run of _Death Rattle_ being in the works and inevitably around the corner. After that's done at the end of February, and those people are probably not going to want me back again, I'm going to concentrate on finishing my school requirements and see where my fashion designs can take me. I've come this far in school, so I don't want to stop now, but once that's done, I don't know where I want to be."

"And that's why I've been working so much and doing things like I've been," David followed, voice eager, convincing, strong. "I've been working and saving as much as I can. I hope to have an internship this summer, and I've been doubling-up on my classes and hoping to graduate a semester early so I can try and plan our next steps together. That's also why I've had the truck parked when I'm here at school: no sense in paying insurance if I don't need to be. Kurt, once I finish school, I'll be ready to go wherever you want us to be. I mean that. I've been planning this the whole time. If you decide that you don't want to live in New York, I'm ready to go wherever you want to be. Maybe Chicago or Cleveland or Philly or somewhere out on the West Coast: wherever you want to be, I'll be ready for that."

"David, my spring break is the week of the twenty-second," Kurt spoke loudly, almost blurting the words, he sounded almost frantic, "Can I come out and spend the week of my spring break with you? Stay at your place in Pittsburgh?"

David was shocked silent for a moment before he answered. "Um, _yeah_ ," David's answer was loud, definitive. "Absolutely. Um, I'm just kinda surprised that you don't want to stay in New York like you did last year. You had stuff to do with your designing stuff and, uh..."

"Well, if it's an inconvenience then..."

"Kurt," David scolded. "No. The more time I'm with you the better I feel. I'd love it if you were here for that week. I mean, there's, like, a week between my spring break and yours. That's, like, one week of me visiting you in New York and then a week of regular school and then a week of you visiting me here. Kurt, this could be the best month I've had since the summer after we graduated high school." David paused for a moment before he continued. "I'm going to have to figure some stuff out to do that week so you won't get bored."

"I'm not going to get bored, David," Kurt scolded playfully, still a sniffle in his respiration. "Remember, I spent my spring break with you two years ago when I was out at Oberlin. I found many things to do while you were in class, and we ate dinner with Garry and Jeff a few times. I want to check out that art museum again also."

"I'd like to see that with you, actually," David mentioned. "Despite that I go to school right there, I have only been there a couple of times. The natural history museum is great also. I don't think you checked that out last time; and there is another art museum not far from there also. Oh, yeah, we should hit the Warhol Museum. I'm in my third year of school here, and I haven't seen it yet."

The two hung in silence for moments after David finished talking. Finally, Kurt said, "You have me feeling good, David. I wasn't in a good state of mind. I'm still not, really, but knowing what's ahead of us in a couple of years and knowing how much you've been planning for it, things I wasn't entirely aware of, really helped to make me feel better."

"Talking with you made me feel better too," David offered. "It was this time of year, exactly three years ago, that was the worst time of my life." Kurt shuddered with the reminder as David continued. "I guess this time of year is always kind-of a gloomy time with the weather and the shortened hours of daylight. I'm hoping we only need to endure one more winter apart from each other, I hope that, by summer of next year, we're in the same place, hopefully living together."

"Sharing our lives?"

"We're already sharing our lives," David remarked, "We'll just be sharing them under better circumstances."

"David, if we could be together right now, after having had this talk, what would you want to be doing?"

"I'd want to be holding you," David answered immediately and without hesitation. "After a discussion like that, I'd just want to hold you for a while. Maybe we'd do something else after, or maybe we'd just fall asleep; but, yeah, I'd definitely want to be holding you right now."

"Me too."

 

**Monday, August 10, 2015**

"Hey," David nearly laughed into his phone as he juggled it in his hand and shut his apartment door behind him, "Calling kinda early tonight, Kurt? I just got in the door from work."

"Hello, David," Kurt's voice was buoyant but purposeful. "Um, I _did_ want to catch you early. Do you want me to call back later when you're more settled in for the evening?"

"Naw, this is fine. Just let me loosen my tie and sit down, and I'll be good to go."

"Mmh," Kurt exhaled a half-chuckle. "You're wearing a _tie_?"

"Yeah, I wear one pretty-much every day when I go to work."

"How much longer is your summer internship?" Kurt asked.

"This is my last week," David informed, sliding the tie from around his neck and tossing it forward toward his dresser and unbuttoning his top two shirt buttons. "I'm in a good position to get a temp job there early next year. If everything goes as planned this fall, I'll be graduating a semester early."

"Hmm," Kurt sounded as if his attention was piqued. "Does that mean you'll be wearing a tie to work regularly?"

"Usually, yeah," David answered, a small laugh..

"I swoon."

David chuckled and smiled in response. "You like that, I take it?"

"The image of you walking in the door in the evening after a day at the office and loosening your tie is an incredibly inviting one," Kurt confirmed. "How was your weekend in Lima?"

"It was nice," David answered. "I hadn't been out there since the beginning of the summer, and it was great to see my parents, and it was good to see that they continue to hang out with your dad and stepmom. I think it's gotta be pretty lonely for my parents because I'm not around, and likewise for your parents because you and Finn aren't around."

"I went out there about a month ago," Kurt remarked. "You and me keep missing each other."

"Yeah, I had so much to do that week," David countered, "I just couldn't get away. We haven't seen each other since your spring break when you came out here."

"Are you planning on going back to Lima for Labor Day weekend?" Kurt asked.

"I hadn't really thought about it," David responded. "I mean, I _guess_ that'd be a good thing; but it's a few weeks away, and school will have started by then. In the meantime, between the end of this week and the beginning of school two weeks from today, I can get enough stuff done to free-up that weekend should I want to do something like that."

"I have some things I want to talk to you about, David," Kurt's tone became slightly weighty, "Can you talk now, or would you rather we talk later in the evening?"

David's face puzzled. "Now is fine. I wasn't going to eat for a little while, and Mom gave me a bunch of leftovers. It's not like I hafta cook dinner or anything. What's on your mind, Kurt?"

"I've been thinking a lot about us and where we're going to be next year at this time," Kurt began.

"Yeah?" David nearly sputtered, suddenly nervous, "What have you been thinking?"

"Well, You're _half_ of this situation," Kurt continued, "Where do _you_ want to be in a year?"

David answered without hesitation. "I told you before, Kurt. Wherever you want to be or you feel you need to be, that's where I'll go. I mean that. You stuck by me for the hardest part of my life; and then, when I actually became somebody I could be proud of being, you told me that you wanted to be with me, wherever our lives took us. Kurt, for all of that, I'm in your hands. You get to make that call."

"David," Kurt responded after a silence, after digesting the gravity of David's words, "do you remember me coming out to stay with you during my spring break this year?"

"Y-hmm- _yes, of course_ , Kurt."

"Do you know _why_ I wanted to spend spring break at your place?"

"Uh," David's face grimaced slightly, "I was hoping that maybe it was because you wanted to be with me?"

"I'm sorry, that's obvious," Kurt giggled, embarrassed. "Yes, that's absolutely true, I wanted to be with you for my spring break, but there was another reason. I wanted to see if I liked it enough to live there. I mean, you're established there. You have friends and contacts for employment and references, and you know the city. If we went anywhere else, you'd be starting from scratch."

"Kurt, uh, that's not necessarily a reason for you to come here, I mean..."

"It's not a reason for me _not_ to come there either."

David cleared his throat before he began speaking, more loudly and clearly. "Despite the things which didn't quite work out for you in New York, your designer label is doing pretty well, right? I mean, you have stores that sell your stuff and work with you up there, right?"

"That's all true, David," Kurt confirmed. "My clothes and accessories are selling, and I'm doing well with that. I have three places here in the city which sell my items, but I also have requests from retail outlets, exclusive ones, in Chicago, Miami, Philadelphia, and a few out on the west coast. If I'm going to expand, it doesn't matter much where my actual home-base is; and now that wedding season and prom season are over, I can think about making a move to expand in those directions."

"You still have another year of school," David reminded, quietly.

"I know, but I can at least return some emails and send some pictures of the pieces I made for commission over the summer," Kurt informed. "In a way, it was good that you were busy with your internship this summer because it afforded me the time to get several orders filled without feeling like I was neglecting _us_." Kurt paused for a moment. "I mean, you seem like you like it there. Do you have any reservations about me moving to Pittsburgh to be with you?"

David inhaled loudly; his voice was slightly shaky when he answered. "I _do_ like it here; and, you're right, I have friends here, and I am fairly-well established in this city. Kurt, I'm just really surprised. I never expected you to want to live here. It seems like you'd be doing this just for me."

"David, I'd be doing this for _us_ , and you are half of _us_ ," Kurt explained. "New York didn't work out so well for me, well, not at least the way I planned for it to work. You're doing fine where you are. I love so many things about New York, and I've made amazing friends here, but I think I could love it just as much if I visited it a few times a month for a couple of days at a time. And you could come with me when I travel here on business. New York is less than ninety minutes from Pittsburgh by air, and it's commutable by car. I think it would be kind-of an amazing life for us, David."

Both were silent for a moment before Kurt spoke again. "David? You still there?"

"Mmm-hmm," David answered, very quiet.

"Are you okay? I can barely hear you."

David exhaled. "I'm almost choking up here, Kurt. I feel like you're giving up your dream or something. I worked hard so I could be with you wherever you realized that dream; and now you're telling me that you're not going for it."

"David, don't be sad, not on my account," Kurt spoke in a conversational tone but not without empathy. "I have more than one dream. Being a Broadway star was one of them, but now I kind-of feel like that isn't practical. I mean, I'm so soured on that one that I can't even go to see a show anywhere in the city without wondering what kind of shady deals went on to get the it produced and cast or how many truly deserving performers were looked over so some important somebody's kid could be in the big role. Another one of my dreams, maybe, was to work in the fashion-world. Well, I've realized that one to some extent, and I do plan on going further with it. And then, there was that dream about having the amazing house with my partner: the older house in the artsy district that we we're going to renovate and make our own and in which we're going to live out an incredibly happy life together. So far, out of those three, one of those dreams turned out to be unrealistic, one's been partially realized despite all probability against it, and the other one is, I think, a sure thing waiting to happen. Besides, just because I want to go where you are doesn't mean I've given up on anything. On the contrary, it means I feel as strongly about _us_ as I ever have. That's not a dream I'll give up on."

David exhaled and sniffed as quietly as he could. "Uh, yeah. Uh,... okay. So, what's next? My apartment here isn't big enough for the two of us for more than a week's stay."

Kurt giggled. "Sometimes you just miss the obvious, David. Talk to Garry, the real estate guy. Describe to him what we're interested in finding. You know the neighborhoods. He knows the neighborhoods. I'll fly into town for the Labor Day weekend. Maybe by then the two of you can have narrowed it down to a few places that you and I can look at together while I'm there. I like the place that Garry and Jeff have. I like what I've seen of the city so far."

"Kurt, do you _really_ think you can be happy here?" David asked, skeptical.

"David, as long as you are there, I'm pretty sure that I will be happy to live there."

 

**Thursday, September 3, 2015**

"Oh, my _word!_ What is _that_ all over your _face?_ " Kurt's expression was a baffled smile: surprised, curious, vague, but, above all, genuinely intrigued. The cab pulled away from the curb as Kurt, eyes still fixed upon David, hiked the strap of his overnight and messenger bags higher onto his shoulder.

David walked to the sidewalk to greet Kurt, taking the handle of Kurt's suitcase into his hand and smiling bashfully. "I haven't shaved in days. I didn't have a need to this week, really, didn't have anyplace to be where I needed to be presentable. You don't like it?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow and his smile became more defined. "I _do_ kind-of like it. You must have had nowhere to be today because, not only are you, um, _crudely_ unshaven, but your hair is completely unkempt, and the rest of this discussion should wait until we get inside."

David flashed Kurt a sideways glance, a smirk, affectedly devious and playful. "Is my appearance a little too _caveman_ for you?"

Kurt's eyes shot up and down David's form, his smile was critical, analytical. "The cargo pants, the striped buttondown, and the wifebeater all look perfect. I'll tell you what I think of the rest when we get inside."

Once the two were up the flight of stairs to David's apartment and the door was shut behind the two of them, Kurt reached out slowly to David's face, tentatively, slowly running his hands over David's unshaven cheeks and neck, working them through his disarrayed hair. Kurt's eyes widened as he nearly growled, "I never knew this neanderthal thing could be such a freaking turn-on."

David smiled and raised his eyebrows, cocking his head as if punctuating the statement inaudibly. "Maybe you like this a little _too_ much?"

Kurt's loose grip on David's head tightened slightly as he pulled David downward until their lips met, warm and moist, moving against the others', warm breath between, inhaling, nearly gasping, at the last as they reluctantly pulled apart.

_"Hello,"_ David mumbled almost shy-sounding. "Good to see you, Kurt."

Kurt grinned and shook his head. "And we hadn't even said hello to each other. _Confounded,_ your raw, animal appeal has caused me to completely forget my manners."

Their eyes remained locked.

David spoke, slightly louder. "Couch?"

"Yes. Please."

They moved slowly, hand-in-hand, from the doorway to the couch in the center of the room, seating themselves, David's arms around Kurt, Kurt twisting, hands still caressing David's face.

"You like it?" David chuckled. "It's only temporary. I'll be needing to appear civilized eventually."

"That's okay," Kurt assured, quiet fascination in his voice. "I like you all cleaned-up and shaven too, but this is an intriguing sensual alternative. How long has it been since you shaved last?"

"It's been six days," David recalled, grinning, a slight chuckle, eyes closed as Kurt's handling of David's beard area became more like a playful scratching action. "I'll be shaving it off tomorrow morning so you can compare, maybe decide which one you prefer."

David leaned his head downward and turned to Kurt, brushing his lips lightly against Kurt's cheek, leaving a short trail of kisses. "Ooh," David muttered, pulling away playfully. " _You_ feel slightly less than shaven yourself."

Kurt grinned and chuckled, closing his eyes and hanging his head in mock-embarrassment. "I was rushing around so much this morning before I left that I just skipped it. I didn't think you'd be able to tell."

David squinted and closely examined Kurt's face, smiling curiously. "I can't really see it. I mean, your hair is lighter than mine is, but I can definitely feel it. And, yeah, the feeling of it against me is kinda hot."

Kurt turned his face to David's, and their lips met almost instinctively. They held this posture for a moment before parting, both smiling in equal measure and facing forward, Kurt's head leaning toward David's chest and David's arm encircling Kurt's shoulder.

"How was your flight?" David asked after the quiet pause.

"It was fine," Kurt answered, "nothing out-of-the-ordinary to report."

"I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up at the airport, but I had morning classes to attend," David informed. "I went to my normal Friday Statistical Analysis lecture today so we could have the whole day together tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it. I didn't mind the cab ride," Kurt shrugged, nodding.

"You know I have my truck back, right?" David offered.

"Yes, you told me that, when you went to Lima last weekend, you drove it back with you."

"Yeah, I thought it'd be handy if I had it, especially now that I'm only going to be in school for this last semester and might need to be a little more mobile around town," David explained.

"So, what's on our itinerary for the weekend?"

David nodded as if gathering thoughts to speak. "Okay, um, it's Thursday, so the running club meets tonight at seven. If you don't want to run, like, if you're too tired from your day so far, we don't have to do that; but Garry and Jeff are making dinner for us after the run. They'll definitely be running, I'm sure."

"I think I can run this evening," Kurt remarked. "It's only a little after two, and, although I am a bit winded from this morning and the flight and everything, I can catch a nap sometime between now and then. Do you have anything you need to do this afternoon?"

David shook his head. "Nope, I freed up the entire day. I am all yours until you leave Monday afternoon."

Kurt smiled, "What about tomorrow?"

"Well, we can make breakfast here or go out somewhere for breakfast. I told Garry we'd meet him at eleven. Garry and I have narrowed it down to four houses that I like and would be feasible within the scope of what I'll be making in January, provided the place I worked my internship over the summer takes me on full-time."

"You talked to them about that, right?" Kurt casually reminded.

"Yeah," David reassured. "They're being really cool about it. They even said they'd hire me on even if I didn't have enough credits to technically graduate a semester early; but, unless something really goes wrong, I'll have my degree by the time the semester ends in December."

"What kind of work will you be doing exactly?" Kurt inquired.

"Mostly, I hope I'll be developing and troubleshooting algorithms," David answered.

"Whatever _that_ means," Kurt grumbled, good-natured and smiling.

David laughed politely in reaction. "Well, I could basically be doing any of the stuff I did during my internship. Like I told you at the beginning of the summer, the company I've been working for is a small software-developing company, but they do contract work all the big companies. Over the summer, I did some low-level troubleshooting and some basic accounting stuff. They even had me work the phones and doing some customer-relations too. My school advisor told me that, for a math major, some basic accounting courses are good to have as part of my academic history, and he was right: that stuff came in handy. I don't think I could handle the company's heavy accounting work, but I could fill in if they needed me there temporarily. I think they're glad to have me, actually. They’re kinda extremely busy and they need someone who can handle all of the different parts of the operation. That's why they want me to start in January."

"Mmm," Kurt nodded and smiled. "You know, I made good money this summer on the outfits I sold."

"Yeah, but it's not going to be a steady income while you're still going to school and living in New York."

"I know," Kurt nodded, a slight whine in his voice, "but I have enough saved to help with a down payment." Kurt swivelled his head and addressed David's eyes directly. "This is going to be _us_. _Both_ of us. I can't expect you to give everything."

David smiled, understanding. "We can sort all of that out when the time comes. Me, though, I've been working almost non-stop in one way or another since the summer after we graduated. I have a decent amount of money saved. I mean, this is kinda what I was saving it for."

"Like you said, though, we'll sort it all out," Kurt nodded, facing forward again. "Did I tell you that the New York Theater Academy wants me to teach a course in the spring?"

_"No,"_ David drew the word out, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," Kurt nodded, quiet, confident. "That's another good thing that came out of _Death Rattle_. Apparently, while it was the must-see-weirdo-production-of-the-season, the dean of the NYTA came out to see it, like, _ten times_. He said that there's no one teaching that kind of, um, _approach_ , for lack of a better term, in the city."

"That'll look really good on your résumé," David volunteered. "You might be able to get teaching jobs. That's _really_ awesome."

"Hmm-hmm," Kurt let out a small laugh. "The people at NYADA can't stand it. They believe their school to be the _'be all, end all'_. If being in that underground production wasn't bad enough to make them hate me, this teaching gig surely will."

"It's not going to affect your graduation status or anything, is it?" David asked, concerned.

"No," Kurt dismissed. "What are they going to say? _'We didn't let this guy graduate because he went professional before we told him he was allowed?'_ That'd _really_ make them look bad."

David shrugged and snickered. "I guess you're right. That does make sense. How's Rachel doing at NYADA?"

"Perfect, actually. She's exactly what they want: the perfect performing poodle that follows all of Broadway's rules."

"That's kinda harsh, Kurt," David's face soured slightly, though it still held the trace of a smile.

"But it's true, David," Kurt retorted. "Maybe living in New York these past few years has made me cruelly honest at times. But, the thing is, that's what Rachel always wanted: to be a conventional Broadway star. That's something that I thought I wanted up to a point. I think my one year at Oberlin really expanded me somehow, showed me that I was happier when I emphasized the things that made me different instead of conforming to a set of expectations; and I was apparently appreciated for it because, in addition to the class that the NYTA wants me to teach, I was offered parts in several other off-beat productions, all of which I turned down."

David shook his head, puzzled. "Why'd you turn them down?"

"I still need to get through school," Kurt explained. " _Death Rattle_ , it turned out, was an incredible amount of work. I found out that I kinda hated the way things get done in that business and the whole attitude of the people involved. It was a lot of senseless stress on top of the stress of actually performing"

"Isn't designing clothes and accessories and making stuff a lot of work also?" David questioned. "Don't you run up against some difficult people in that area too?"

"Sure, but it's work I can do on my own time at my own speed," Kurt rationalized. "And, yes, if I had to deal with some of those fashion people on a daily basis, it probably would drive me nuts. I hate to think that I was _that_ annoying at one time. Dealing with them every few months is something I can handle, I think, especially when the return is healthy."

Kurt paused before speaking again "So, okay, we got sidetracked," Kurt reminded. "After we look at houses tomorrow, _then_ what have you planned for the weekend?"

"Well, um, Garry and Jeff are going to the symphony tomorrow night. Jeff suggested that maybe we go also. I've never done that, so I thought it might be a cool experience for both of us, that is, if you're interested."

Kurt nodded agreeably. "You know, for as much live musical theater and traditional music concerts I've seen, I've never gone to the symphony. Sounds like it could be fun."

David smiled, glad that Kurt was receptive to the idea, before continuing. "Then we can go running Saturday morning with the club, catch breakfast with them. For the afternoon, I was thinking we could go to the North Side of the city. There's the Warhol Museum and the Science Center out that way. We can find a restaurant for dinner or we can hit a grocery store and head back here and make dinner. For Sunday, if we're up for it, I was thinking we could head to the Strip District. You never know what you're going to run into there. There's, like, street vendors and produce markets and stuff like that. Some good places for breakfast there also. Sunday afternoon is Garry and Jeff's Labor Day barbecue, so that's where we'll be going into the evening. Monday we recuperate before I drive you back to the airport. What time is your flight back to New York?"

"I need to be at the airport at four in the afternoon," Kurt replied.

David smiled and pulled Kurt closer; quietly he spoke, his lips near Kurt's ear. "That gives us most of the day Monday to say goodbye."

Kurt smiled and sounded a small laugh. "I _do_ think I could go to sleep right now after all of the running around this morning."

"I could nod off right with you. Do you want the bed, or do you want to get more comfortable here on the couch?"

"I could fall asleep just like we are right now."

David looked downward at Kurt. "Me too." He lowered his head and kissed Kurt's forehead. Kurt smiled, leaned his head against David's chest, and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

_"Shhh,"_ David hissed through quiet laughter, opening his apartment door and gently pushing Kurt, who was laughing more loudly, inside the doorway. "Keep it down. I don't want to disturb my downstairs neighbor."

As David closed the door behind them, Kurt countered quietly, "It's not even ten o'clock."

"Yeah, but it is still technically a weeknight," David spoke as he dropped his gym bag onto the hardwood floor, noting the curiously solid thunk that sounded as he did.

Kurt noticed the sound also, grimacing jokingly. "What have you got in there, David? Car parts?"

David shook his head, puzzled, lifting the bag back upward to the level of arm of the couch and unzipping the bag. "No, I just have the sweaty shirts we were wearing when we ran before we changed out of them into our presentable shirts for dinner at Garry's and Jeff's place; and the towels we dried ourselves with are in here too. Oh yeah, my sweatband, deodorant..." David reached deeply into the bottom of the bag, taking hold of something under the t-shirts and towels, expression inquisitive. David lifted the item out of the bag and shook his head. It was a bottle of wine.

" _Why_ do you have a _wine bottle_ in your gym bag, David," Kurt asked, a teasing tone to his voice.

David snickered, shaking his head, grinning. "Garry or Jeff must have snuck it in there while I wasn't looking."

As if on-cue, David's phone sounded with a text alert. He produced his phone and read the message aloud for both himself and Kurt.

"It's from Garry. It says, _'Did you find it yet?'_ and it's followed by one of those winky-faces."

Kurt broke into a quiet-but-hearty laugh as David poked a return message, thanking him for the gesture. "It's chilled," David noted as he inspected the bottle. "They must have put it in my bag right before we left." David turned to Kurt, asking, "Feel like a glass of Riesling?"

"Well, we had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner," Kurt noted. "I'm sure that's why I've been so prone to laughing."

"Well, Garry put it there for a reason," David remarked. "It's not really late, and we don't have to be up super-early tomorrow or anything. Seems a shame to waste their romantic gesture." David's face betrayed an enticing smirk.

"Okay, David, you convinced me," Kurt shook his head as he seated himself on the couch.

David emerged from the kitchen area after a few minutes holding two glasses, extending one of them toward Kurt's accepting hand and seating himself next to Kurt. "Sorry, I don't have wine glasses."

Kurt swallowed a sip of the wine before reassuring, "That's not a problem David."

The two sat in silence, next to each other for some time until David spoke. "You know how incredible I felt when I saw you get out of that cab earlier today?"

Kurt smiled shyly at David, casting his gaze downward then back to meet David's eyes again as David continued.

"It's like I'm going to class and working and so involved with everything on this end, that I don't realize how much I've missed you until I see you in front of me like that. It's like that every time I see you."

Kurt smiled more obviously. "You know what the best part of being away is?"

"No. What?" David's voice was just above a mumble.

"Coming home."

David nodded at Kurt's answer, a hint of questioning in his expression. "Is _this_ home? Well, not his apartment, but this _place_?"

"I think it is," Kurt responded quietly but directly, "or it's _going_ to be."

David nodded and they sat in silence for a moment before David asked, "You're sure about this?"

"I'm about ninety percent sure," Kurt replied, no uncertainty in his voice.

"What about the missing ten percent?" David questioned.

"David, I was one hundred percent sure of my decision to attend NYADA and pursue a career in show-business. I was about eighty-five percent sure that I wanted to go into designing clothes and accessories. I was about sixty percent sure that I wanted to take the role in _Death Rattle of a Housefly_. As it happens, the NYADA and show-business ideas didn't work out so well for me, fashion design has proven to have definite potential, and, reservations aside, _Death Rattle_ has benefitted me hugely."

David's face betrayed a crooked smile. "That's an _inverse relationship_ , Kurt."

"What I was trying to say," Kurt explained, "is that I shouldn't be thinking that my expectations are absolute."

The two sat in silence for a moment until David asked, "Is there anything you're one hundred percent sure of?"

Kurt nodded slowly toward verbalizing his answer. "I'm absolutely sure that I want to be with you, David. One hundred percent sure."

David smiled and, reaching his arm around Kurt's shoulder, drew Kurt closer. Kurt sipped again on his glass of wine. David held his glass toward Kurt, tipping it in Kurt's direction. Kurt held his glass toward David's and asked, "What are we drinking to, David?"

"We're drinking to finally making a solid move to being together after all of this time," David spoke, quietly certain, "to our future together."

"To our future together," Kurt smiled, wide and agreeing as he tapped his glass to David's and both drank.

After some silence passed, David spoke. "What say we finish these glasses of wine and hit the shower together? I'm still sweaty from the run, and I'm sure you are too. From there, I say we finish that bottle of wine and go to bed."

"Just go to bed?" Kurt questioned.

David smiled slyly. "I said we'd go to bed. I didn't say we'd have to go to sleep right away."

 

**Friday, September 4, 2015**

Soft morning light was filtering into David's second floor apartment as Kurt woke. He found that he and David were both on their sides, facing each other, and, in David's sleeping expression, Kurt, as always, found a wealth of beauty on every level. David's physical intensity the previous evening was matched and tempered by his obvious displays of deep affection: David was an incredibly aware, cognizant partner, communicating through his expression and the contact of their eyes. If David was gentle and responsive to a fault, his drive and endurance always pushed Kurt to new levels of transcendent bliss. It was fully certain that Kurt appreciated every part of David, physical and otherwise; he sometimes felt, usually after a particularly lengthy period of reaching that point of expiration, that he was, in truth, glad that a certain physical attribute of David's wasn't more copious: David was, in fact, all Kurt could ever want in that particular place. And, if Kurt did feel like it was sometimes more than his capacity could endure, there was always the touch of David's hand against Kurt's cheek or the sensation of David's mouth and tongue against his own or the trace of David's lips along Kurt's throat or, most profoundly, the expression of fierce awe on David's face, an expression David wore every time since the very first time Kurt had given himself to his enamored partner, that never failed to return Kurt's mind to the unshakable absolute that Kurt felt he'd never want anything more than David could give him. And if, at present, David wanted to sleep, Kurt felt that he'd more than earned the rest: Kurt's senses were prone to momentarily slide into the dizzying rapture which David had brought about in him the previous night just as much as Kurt could presently still feel David's physical imprint within.

That Kurt felt that both his and David's affections for each other had matured during their years of being emotionally together though physically apart reinforced Kurt's feelings. It was not decisive as nothing had ever been called into question. It was, without a doubt, however, that their feelings for each other had grown, their empathy matured, their affection and attraction had taken on a sophistication. If the occasional ice-cream date wasn't entirely out of the question, it had been largely been relegated to an importance secondary to the more fundamental concerns of their future together, concerns toward which they had both worked in their own ways.

For the moment, Kurt's eyes rested on David's face, studying the contours, the week's growth of beard, the peaceful expression which overtook his face when he was asleep, lips slightly parted. Kurt could feel David's breath, warm and balmy between them. In this perfectly still moment, Kurt felt as if everything he needed and wanted was contained in David's apartment, or, more immediately, within arm's reach: if the remainder of Kurt's life spun out in that space, in that moment, he'd have led an incredibly happy life, he mused, a subtle smile breaking across his face.

With the barely-audible sound of movement under the bedsheets, David's limbs shifted and stretched slightly. His eyes opened to see Kurt's trained on him, and his body shuddered, startled for a moment, then succumbing to a relieved smile.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you?" Kurt smiled, reaching a hand to David's face and sliding his fingers along David's scruffy cheek.

David laughed, sounding nasal and thick, appropriately, just awakened. "That's okay. It's a good thing to open my eyes to see you right in front of me. I just didn't expect that you'd be looking right back is all."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed smoothly. "I had a fantastic night."

"Me too," David answered, just above a whisper, eyes unfocused then honing onto Kurt's face, both faces breaking small smiles on contact.

"Did you sleep well?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I slept like a rock," David spoke breathy, with a smirk. "I can't remember the last time I slept so solid."

"I didn't keep you up, did I?"

"No," David grimaced, puzzled. "Doing what?"

"After we were done when we were kissing and holding each other," Kurt mentioned, playfully guilty-looking. "Seemed like you just wanted to go to sleep."

"Hm-mm," David smiled pensively, eyes closed, as he reached for Kurt and tugged, closing the space between them. "That's kinda the best part, Kurt. I wouldn't wanna sleep through that."

Kurt chuckled. "Well, but then you turned on your belly like you wanted to go to sleep."

David's expression became more animated, eyes widening in playful accusation. "That's because you started rubbing my shoulders, and I thought I'd roll over so could get to them unobstructed. I mean, who am I to stand in your way of rubbing my back if that's what you wanna do?" After a pause and a quick kiss, David added, "And I think that's part of why I slept so well."

Kurt smiled mischievously and raised his hands again to David's shoulders and around to the back of his thick neck, pulling David closer, exchanging several light kisses. "You've got this fuzzy patch just at the base of your neck," Kurt commented, pulling away momentarily.

_"Yeah,"_ David's face soured. "I've been growing body hair in new places. I have one, like, at my lower back, right in the center above my waistline."

"I didn't notice that one last night," Kurt grinned. "It's called a 'welcome mat'."

_"What?"_ David's voice reacted almost immediately and high-pitched.

"That's what they call it, that patch of back-hair right in the center at the waist," Kurt quietly explained as he reached downward around David's back, feeling for evidence of hair-growth.

"That's _fucked up,_ " David said, nearly cackling, as he rolled onto his back, attempting to prevent Kurt's hand from reaching further.

"It's _not_ ," Kurt protested as he groped, "It's just a silly name somebody gave it that happened to stick."

David laughed and squirmed as Kurt snaked his hand deeper beneath David's torso.

"I think I found it," Kurt snickered as his arm came to a stop, _"Paydirt."_

David smiled, slightly exhausted, defeated. "You think they're weird? Should I shave those things off?"

_"No!"_ Kurt's response was shrill and emphatic causing David to laugh quietly, an embarrassed chuckle. Kurt furthered as his fingers caressed the small patch of body hair at the base of David's spine. "I like all of those interesting things about you. If it bothers you, sure, shave it off if you like. It's your body. It's you I love, and whether you have some innocuous-but-sexy patch of body hair somewhere is not going to change how I feel about you. Now roll over on your side so I can actually see it."

"Oh, geeze." David's face blushed deep red as he smiled and obliged.

"Mmm," Kurt hummed softly, eyes and hands tracing the contours and topography of David's back. "David, it's beautiful. It's really barely visible. I can feel it more than I can actually see it."

David felt Kurt pull himself more closely; then he felt Kurt's chest warm against his back and Kurt's lips tracing their way along his shoulders and neck. Kurt's hands found David's hands, and the two lay silent and still, absorbing the moment.

"If it makes you feel any better, David, _I'm_ getting hairier also," Kurt offered.

David smiled, a single syllable of a laugh. "I noticed. You have that perfect little line under your bellybutton going straight down to your package."

"Well, you wouldn't want me to shave _that_ off, would you?" Kurt playfully threatened.

"No, but yours is, like, _perfect_ ," David answered, gravelly from his posture. "It's not, like, tufts of back-hair or something."

"Well, there are people who would disagree that my belly-hair is acceptable," Kurt whispered. "I say, _'srew 'em.'_ I also say that your back-hair is _sexy_." Kurt paused, craning his head upward and searching the room. "I'm hungry. For breakfast. What time is it?"

David opened an eye and spied the clock on his bedside table. "Seven-thirty. I'm hungry too. What say you and I destroy the kitchen?"

Kurt lowered his head and kissed the back of David's neck again before whispering in his ear, "Sounds like a good plan."

 

* * *

 

"David, I didn't tell you yet, but you look _fantastic_ tonight," Kurt said as he leaned in toward David's left ear.

The two had just been ushered to their seats. Mustard Hall was grand and opulent as one would expect from an older theater venue which was the seat of the city's symphony orchestra.

"Thank you," David smiled his reply. He was wearing a medium-blue dress-shirt with a narrow black tie and black dress pants under a black blazer. "It's not like I'm super-dressed-up or something," David offered.

"No, but you still look awesome," Kurt smiled, turning to address David directly. Kurt smiled more widely the longer he took in David's face. "And you clean-up well. Your aftershave smells amazing too. Really unlike anything I've encountered."

David chuckled and smiled, dropping his head humbly. "I get it at a local store that sells all kinds of handmade items. They have this whole line of herbal cosmetics and stuff. It's got lavender in it. At first, I liked the way it smelled, but now that I've been using it for a while, I like the way it feels when I use it. I don't think I could go back to a regular mass-market brand." David paused before turning to face Kurt, subtle grin in place, and saying, "You look great tonight yourself."

Kurt was wearing a matching charcoal-gray suit coat and pants with a rust-colored turtleneck and a Victorian-inspired brooch on his lapel. He smiled, crooked and genuine, nearly pulling his face into an unintended wink. "Thank you, David."

The two looked around the vast theater hall. "Where are Garry and Jeff sitting?" Kurt asked.

"They have season subscriptions," David began. "They're in one of the boxes. Not sure which one."

"These seats seem pretty good for us just having come the night of the performance," Kurt offered.

"I think so," David replied. "We're right in the center of the floor, twenty rows back. Honestly, I think that's pretty good."

"Must be a slow night or something, or maybe a bad weekend," Kurt observed, "with so many empty seats around us."

David shrugged. "It's still about twenty minutes until the start of the program. I guess it could fill up."

A tall, wiry-looking, middle-aged man in a black trenchcoat, black dress shirt, and black pants walked into the row in which David and Kurt were seated, eyeing his ticket and taking the seat next to Kurt. The man was wearing small wire-framed spectacles which slid lazily to rest low on the bridge of his nose and a black fedora embellished with a silver-and-blue stickpin. His long hair was slicked back and tied in a ponytail which curled of its own volition as it rested on his back. His face was unsahven and wore a stony, almost unapproachable expression as he slid out of his trenchcoat, slinging it over an arm, and removed the hat from his head. His black Cuban-heeled dress boots added to his height.

Kurt and David eyed the man curiously for a moment as he began to leaf through the symphony program book. He had a number of somewhat ornate silver rings on both hands and seemed to become absorbed in the program book immediately.

Kurt leaned close to David. "I wonder if he's here by himself," Kurt whispered. "It's kinda sad. He looks so serious. And all in black."

"He just might be, like, some ultra-into-it classical music person or something," David whispered back. "He make you nervous or something to be sitting next to you? I can switch seats with you."

"Hm, no," Kurt responded. "Just interesting. He looks dark but not, um, creepy, or something."

"Try talking to him?" David asked.

"Ungh," Kurt wordlessly declined.

"C'mon," David gently urged. "We're going to be sitting next to him for, like, two-hours-plus. I'll start if you want me to."

David leaned forward, clearing Kurt's form, and spoke at a conversational level. "Cool hat," David nodded toward the fedora in the man's lap.

The man turned his head and looked toward first David, then Kurt, a trace of a smile forming on his lips. "Thank you," he spoke loudly and directly, nodding.

"I have one something like it, but, I almost never wear it," David volunteered, a small reciprocal smile.

"You _should_ wear it," the man suggested. "Not enough people wear cool hats."

David smiled, a hint of a laugh, and nodded as Kurt asked, "Are you here by yourself?"

The man smiled crookedly. "Sort-of. Not exactly."

Kurt and David both shot the man a blank expression. " _Sort of not exactly?_ " Kurt questioned suspiciously in return.

"Well, my date is kinda _working_ tonight," The man replied to confused expressions from Kurt and David. After a few seconds of silence, the man explained, "He's singing in the second half of the program."

_"Ahhh,"_ David smiled, relieved and nodding as Kurt smiled politely. The man appeared friendly, more approachable when he spoke. "So, um, there's a few empty seats around," David added.

"They'll fill up," the man said, nodding. "The first half of the concert is not a very well-known piece, but it'll get crowded, post-intermission. _Carmina Burana_ always pulls 'em in."

"Our friends are really into that," David volunteered, "That's why they told us to come tonight."

"Oh," the man began, piqued, "is this your first symphony concert?"

"Yeah, actually, it is," David answered as Kurt nodded, smiling.

"That's really cool," the man responded as he extended his hand to Kurt. "I'm Daniel, by the way, and you'll get to see my awesome partner sing later tonight."

"Kurt," Kurt responded shaking his hand, "nice to meet you, Daniel."

"I'm Dave," David spoke as he shook Daniel's hand as it was offered to him.

Daniel smiled more fully. "Nice to meet both of you, Kurt and Dave. So, are you from the area?"

"Well, I live in the Oakland area right now," David offered. "I'm still going to school, but, actually, we were looking at houses today. Kurt's going to be moving here in, like, June of next year."

" _That's_ really _great_ ," Daniel became animated and enthusiastic. "Where do you live now, Kurt?"

"I'm going to school in New York," Kurt answered. "I'll be finished after the spring term, and I'll be moving in with David."

"Ah, great," Daniel nodded, smiling. "What part of town are you planning to move to?"

"We looked at some houses in Edgewood, Shadyside, and Squirrel Hill," David answered.

"Those are all decent places," Daniel offered. "Personally, Shadyside's layout always confused me. I tend to like Squirrel Hill. There's always stuff to do. I had friends that lived there years ago, and everything's within walking distance. That's always nice. Of course, the same is true of Shadyside and Edgewood."

"Oh, the house we liked best was in Squirrel Hill," Kurt interjected, lively.

"What part of town do you live in?" David asked.

"I live kinda in between the South Side and the Waterfront," Daniel explained.

"South Side is cool," David offered.

"It's okay," Daniel countered. "I like going there and hanging out: live music, good bars and restaurants, stuff like that. I'm glad I don't live in the South Side-proper, though."

David and Kurt both nodded.

"Hey," Daniel spoke, "are you two going to be hanging out after the concert, or are you going straight back home?"

David and Kurt looked at each other, shrugging. "We have no plans," David volunteered. "Holiday weekend. Pretty-much had no plans for early tomorrow."

"Well, I'll be meeting my partner after the concert," Daniel informed. "There's that restaurant across the street. We usually meet in the bar area for a drink or something snacky after the events. If you're interested in joining us after the performance, feel free."

David and Kurt nodded agreeably as a bell sounded and the house lights dimmed.

"Five-minute warning," Daniel mumbled before casting his attention to David and Kurt. "Incidentally, don't buy drinks in the lobby during intermission. Too expensive, believe me." Kurt and David nodded as Daniel continued. "Unless you're, like, dying of thirst. They do have a nice enclosed courtyard area. We can take a stroll out there during intermission."

Kurt and David both nodded agreeably.

 

* * *

 

"And there he is, my favorite tenor," Daniel announced the appearance of a husky, smiling blonde man walking into the crowded bar area, abuzz with movement, of the Italian restaurant located across the street from the concert hall. Daniel, David, and Kurt were awaiting his arrival, Daniel having already ordered him a drink.

"Oh, this is gonna get confusing," Daniel said, gesturing toward the blonde man. "Guys, this is my partner, David." Daniel then gestured from the blonde man to the two younger men and introduced them. "David, meet two young gentlemen I was seated next to tonight, this is Kurt and Dave. Yes, another David."

Blonde David laughed as he greeted and shook hands with David and Kurt before reaching for his drink.

"Excuse me, David," the younger, dark-haired David said to the blonde tenor, still in his performing tuxedo but with his bowtie removed and his top button undone, "Um, that solo you sang?"

"Yes?" blonde David addressed the younger David, smiling and attentive after sipping from his glass.

"It was excellent, by the way, but were you singing from the point of view of a roasted goose or something?"

Tenor David began to laugh immediately as Daniel rolled his eyes, a crooked grin on his face. "Thank you. A _swan_ , actually," tenor David informed, once his laughter subsided, "a roasted swan."

Daniel shook his head, a mirthless grin on his face. "The text to that piece is based on manuscripts and poems written by thirteenth-century monks. Those guys were up to no good."

Younger David suddenly struck a cocky grin and pointed toward Daniel who was once again wearing his fedora. "You know who you remind me of?" asked the younger David.

Daniel turned to David, shaking his head, politely inquisitive. "No, Dave. Who?"

"When I first saw you walk into the concert hall and sit next to us, I thought John Lennon. Now, though, I'm thinking William S. Burroughs."

Kurt smiled while blonde David broke into laughter once again. Daniel looked sarcastically accusing at David Karofsky. "Wait a second. How old are you? You can't be older than twenty-five, and you _look_ like _nice_ kids. How the hell do you know who William S. Burroughs is?" Daniel's face revealed a sly grin before adding more quietly, "By the way, I get both of those guys all of the time: Lennon _and_ Burroughs."

"Ah," younger David explained, "I read a lot, and I went through a beatnik literature phase a couple of years ago."

"That explains it," Daniel nodded.

"Burroughs wasn't my favorite, though," David Karofsky admitted.

"Yeah, but he's one of _my_ favorites," Daniel countered, "And you get bonus points for actually getting through some of his stuff and for actually knowing his name." Daniel took a long drink from his glass before adding approvingly, "You kids are _alright_."

"We were actually house-shopping earlier today," Kurt spoke, piquing blonde David's attention.

"Are you just moving to the area?" blonde David asked. "In which areas are you house-hunting?"

"We looked at some in Shadyside, Squirrel Hill, and Edgewood," the younger David informed. "I live in Oakland and Kurt is finishing up school in New York."

"We both really liked this one house in Squirrel Hill," Kurt interjected excitedly. "It's this really distinctive older two-story house. The front entrance has double-doors with leaded glass panels; and it has a really amazing great-room. Not, like, the kind you see in a McMansion or something, but, like, a real _honest-to-goodness great-room_. The kind that you can just imagine a string-quartet entertaining your dinner guests in. The basement is semi-finished and would be an incredible gameroom once it's fixed-up."

"That sounds really nice," tenor David contributed, smiling and nodding.

"The upstairs has four bedrooms and a bath while there's a master bedroom on the main floor," Kurt continued, enthusiastically. "The kitchen is smaller than I'd like, but that's about the only downside."

"We both really liked it actually," the younger David added.

"Hey, are you guys hungry?" Daniel asked.

Kurt and David addressed each other and nodded. "We could eat something," the younger David admitted.

"We should get an order each of the fried zucchini and the stuffed hot peppers and split them," blonde David suggested. "The zucchini comes with this amazing horseradish sauce."

"Oh, man," Daniel contributed, "I could do _shots_ of that horseradish sauce."

Blonde David laughed aloud as younger David and Kurt smiled uneasily, not knowing whether to take Daniel's hyperbolic comment seriously.

Daniel flagged a waiter and placed an order for the food as blonde David inquired further. "So, is it definite that you plan on buying that house?"

"Well, we really want to, but we need to check some things first," younger David spoke. "The real estate agent is a friend, so that's on our side, but, at our age, nothing's really certain."

"Well, I hope everything goes your way and you get the house that you want," blonde David offered. "And I hope you can get out and come see me sing again. I'm in the opera also."

"Yeah, it would be awesome to have some opera friends so I wouldn't hafta keep going by myself when my David sings," Daniel contributed.

 

* * *

 

"It's before midnight," David noted as he unlocked the door to his apartment, "It's not even very late."

Kurt slid out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch while David unknotted his necktie and undid his topmost button. Both of them found themselves seated on the couch, close, touching, the beginning of an embrace.

"I had a nice time tonight," David offered happily. "I enjoyed the symphony. Not really my thing, I guess, but it's something I could do once in a while."

Kurt smiled subtly as he face forward. "Me too. I had a good time. It was a new experience. A good one." Kurt's tone was more subdued but his feelings were less enthusiastic than David's.

"I liked hanging out with Daniel and David," David continued. "David's really friendly, seems like a really great guy. Daniel was kinda, um, _different_."

"Daniel seemed _nice_ ," Kurt countered. "I thought that you and him could probably strike up a good conversation. You're both kind-of _analytic_ or something."

"Or _something_ ," David added jokingly in an exaggerated tone. "He just seems kinda hard to crack."

" _You're_ hard to crack, David," Kurt turned and faced David, smiling, pressing his forehead against David's until they both began laughing.

Kurt shifted and eased himself against David. The two sat in silence for a moment until David spoke.

"I notice that you didn't talk at all about your singing or what you're going to school for. Kinda surprised me because we were hanging out with a professional vocalist and..."

"David, am I a failure?" Kurt's words cut short David's cheerful mood as much as they physically ended his statement.

"Kurt, I'm not sure I know...uh..."

"For not following through on my performing career," Kurt spoke clearly. "Does that make me a failure?"

"Kurt, _I_ don't see it that way," David's voice was low-pitched and stoic. "From what I see, you could have gone with it. You still have the opportunity to do that. You have offers to be in other productions. A rival school wants you to teach a class in the spring. I can't see any of that as _failure_ , Kurt."

"I kinda see it as failure, though," Kurt mumbled.

"Kurt, if it was something you wanted to do but you couldn't make it happen, _that_ would be failure." David's voice was direct but soft. "What's happened, though, is that you _can_ do what you set out to do, but you'd rather not deal with it."

"Maybe I'm afraid to go further with it. Maybe I _can't_ deal with it."

"Kurt, I don't believe that. I don't believe that you're afraid of much. _You_ know what you're capable of, and, _you_ know people liked it. You just couldn't play by their rules or respect their pecking-order because you know that you're _better_ than that. It's not that you can't deal with it. It's that you don't have the time or patience for their petty games." David moved his arm around Kurt's shoulder; he felt Kurt's tense posture soften as he did. "Besides, making a name for yourself as a designer is pretty amazing. Given the choice, could you pick which you'd rather be? A designer or a performer? I mean, you've _had_ a taste of _both_."

"You're right as usual," Kurt admitted. "Logic wins. As a designer, I might need to deal with pretentious people who are full of themselves, but I'd be dealing with them one-at-a-time. If I kept performing, I'd be dealing with any number of them saying things about me behind my back, plus all the critics I'd be worried about pleasing all of the time."

"You did pretty well with the critics already," David reminded.

"Yes, but they can change their tune in a heartbeat," Kurt countered.

They sat in silence for a time. David lifted his hand to Kurt's shoulder and kneaded the tight muscles there and at the back of his neck.

"I really liked that house, David." Kurt's voice was quiet, thoughtful.

"Yeah, me too," David answered, almost a whisper.

"I could see putting a grand piano in that great-room."

David smiled, pulling Kurt closer. "I could see that. I could see you giving piano lessons to kids. I could see one of the upstairs bedrooms being your designing room and work area."

"I could see a big-screen TV and your football trophies in the basement once we finish converting it to a gameroom," Kurt offered brightly.

David laughed quietly and nodded. "I could see our dads coming to visit every February for the best Superbowl party they've ever seen."

Kurt's face slowly drew to a genuine, sublime smile as David held him.

"I think I'm really going to like it here, David." 


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to FFdotnet; this has been slightly edited, proofed, and tweaked though any changes are very minor. This tells a story of the several months leading up to and following David Karofsky's suicide attempt. A Kurtofsky ship approached with logic and awareness, "Strange Currencies" provides the backstory of Dave after "Prom Queen" when he transferred to Thurston. This story respects canon through "On My Way", after which it corrects the gross mistakes and omissions of Season 3 definitively and negates Season 4. Dedicated to my own David K. "...with love come strange currencies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Glee, nor any of the show's characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.
> 
> Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.
> 
> This story is newly re-edited from its original appearance.  
> Approximate wordcount this chapter: 17,000

**Chapter 42**

 

**Friday, March 4, 2016**

David's truck hummed: it hadn't sounded this good in years, if ever. He'd had it for a long time, since high school, but having had the truck parked for the better part of three years meant that nothing on it had worn during that time. That it was parked in the two-car garage at the Karofsky family home meant that any rust on the body was minimal. During the Thanksgiving break, he'd had the people at Burt's garage examine it and compile a list of things which were likely to need to be replaced. The list was surprisingly spare. During the longer semester break, David and Kurt worked together performing a tune-up, replacing old belts and hoses, and completing other general maintenance tasks. David had the oil changed and the fluids topped-off the previous evening, and the sound of the smooth-running engine was sweet to David's ears. In reality, the truck was older, but it had to last for as long of a time as possible being that David, though graduated and employed, was burdened with a mortgage; and Kurt, though soon-to-be graduated, had no precise stream of income as of yet.

The sellers of the house in the Squirrel Hill area of Pittsburgh accepted David and Kurt's offer, though not without a lengthy period of delay and indecision. This actually worked to the benefit of David and Kurt, allowing David to more precisely analyze and budget their collective assets as well as placing him closer to the point where he was employed full-time. He still made himself available as a tutor as his time allowed: he honestly liked the work and the contact with students, and the extra income was certainly welcome.

The house officially belonged to David and Kurt as of Monday, January fourth, and David began moving himself and his things into the house that Friday, the eighth. That Kurt needed to be available to sign documents meant that he and David would, for the first time in two years, miss New Year's Eve in Times Square. It really didn't bother them to spend that time in Lima, however: the fact that New Year's Day fell on a Friday meant they had an entire weekend to plan their road trip back to Pittsburgh; and they didn't really care much where they were for New Years Eve so long as they were together.

The winter weather was largely over, and David had most of his personal belongings moved into his and Kurt's new home. A great deal of work needed to be done, though, so many of David's things were still in boxes or had not found a permanent station. His single-size bed, which he had been using for the last three-and-a-half years, was set-up in one of the upstairs bedrooms; his full-size bed was still at his parents' home in Lima. He would be driving to Lima during one of the coming weekends to collect his bed as well as other personal items from his parents' home.

David felt tiny living alone in the large, older house; but he never felt lonely or alone, even through the desolate, harsh February weather. He talked to Kurt daily and his parents frequently; and Jeff and Garry were a regular presence in David's life, helping him to do some preliminary work for the inevitable improvements which he would soon be undertaking. David's new job kept him busy, but he found the new routine energizing also. He'd had to abandon running on a daily basis, but he kept running with the running club three times a week. In exchange, however, he found that he was quite comfortable in many aspects of his job. He'd managed, one day while working the phones, to sell to one of his clients, an add-on package of services far exceeding their initial order. This gained him a sales-bonus for working a position other than one for which he was hired (and, needless to say, commendations from the company's owners).

He was, however, being only two months into his job, not eligible for vacation time. He would be when he reached his three-month and six-month anniversaries (three days and a week, respectively, provided he was available on-call as needed); but he already had specific uses for those allotted times. He did have sick-days, but opted not to use those. David was able to take this particular Friday off of work because he had agreed to work two additional hours each evening after his regular day had finished. It was not much of a burden, and it didn't interfere with his other activities.

He'd gotten into his truck and began driving that morning at eight o'clock. The air was brisk at the time, but it was unseasonably warm for so early in March; by noon, David was halfway across the state of Pennsylvania and the temperature was nearing a pleasant sixty degrees. He'd called Kurt twice that day already: once at about nine o'clock and a second time at eleven o'clock when he was at a toll-road rest-stop. He knew Kurt didn't have any Friday classes; he also knew that Friday was generally Kurt's day for staying home to do laundry and answer the week's email inquiries concerning his fashion designs. David needed to be sure that Kurt would be at home in the late afternoon.

At the final rest-stop, an hour outside of his destination according to his dashboard-mounted positioning device, David made two final phone calls before embarking again for the final leg of his travels. The New Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel was predictably congested: it was quitting-time on a Friday afternoon. The New York side of the tunnel always seemed to move more quickly, and he was driving against the greater flow of traffic. At this point, David was far more dependent upon the instructions from his digital pilot. The other times he'd been to visit Kurt, he'd traveled via Greyhound, then taxi cab; maneuvering his truck through the streets of the Village required concentration.

He'd found a parking place along the street a half-block from Rachel's house, the house where Kurt rented the downstairs apartment. David was dressed nicely but casually: burgundy dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, casual navy-colored sport-coat, and jeans. He'd wanted to be dressed more formally, but he knew that an eight-hour drive would undoubtedly take its toll on nicely-pressed dress-pants and his patience with anything as constricting as a necktie.

After emerging from his parked truck and checking the contents of the inside breast-pocket of his jacket, he turned and surveyed his late-afternoon surroundings. Over the bustle of foot-traffic and the hum of slow-moving street-traffic, the sky was turbulent: golden sunshine shafting through sparse clouds in the western sky with a fast-approaching cloud mass coming from the north. The wind had kicked up a strong northern breeze: it was cool without being cold; David found it energizing: it made him feel _alive_.

He pecked Kurt's number from the speed-dial on his phone and began walking in the direction of Kurt's residence.

"Hello, _David?_ " Kurt's pitch went upward at the end as if almost fatigued.

"Hey, Kurt," David answered slowly in an exaggerated tone, sounding almost intentionally silly, "What's going on?"

"David, seriously, I'm folding towels and sheets," Kurt sounded somewhat annoyed. "This is the third time you've called today. Each time, I've been doing laundry. What's going on?" The last question sounded in a demanding tone.

By this time, David was approaching Rachel's house. The gray, swirling cloud-mass was almost directly overhead. David nodded at a group of people assembled across the street beneath a canvas awning, acknowledging their presence, a group which included Marcel, Rachel, and a few of Kurt's other New York friends.

"Well, Kurt," David's cadence was slow, mock-melodrama, "I'm standing on the sidewalk right outside your place."

_"What?"_ Kurt's response was loud and shrill.

"Are you gonna come and let me in?"

Almost instantaneously, Kurt's incredulous face poked itself into the window near the top of the red front door to see David, smirking smugly, eyebrows raising, phone still in hand, standing in front of the house.

Kurt threw the door outward. "David! What are you doing here?" It was difficult to tell if Kurt's reaction was surprise, elation, or outrage. "Get inside! It looks like it's about to pour out there!"

David, grinning hugely, walked swiftly toward the doorway. "Let's go up on the terrace, Kurt," David suggested, sounding more like a statement than a request.

"David," Kurt attempted reason, "it's about to _rain._ "

"Let's go up on the _terrace_ , Kurt," David sounded, more exaggerated, more pleading this time.

Kurt shook his head in a frustrated giggle and pushed David toward the stairs to the house's upper level. "What are you even _doing_ here right now?" Kurt's voice was shriller yet. "You're _insane_ , David."

David laughed, almost a cackle before saying. "I have something I gotta talk to you about. Just humor me."

"I look like an unmade bed," Kurt protested as he opened the French doors to the terrace.

"Like I _care_ ," David appeased, "Like I haven't seen you looking a little disheveled before."

The two stood on the terrace facing each other. The wind was blowing through their hair: David's fluttered while Kurt's longer mane appeared wild and windswept. Kurt stood almost wide-eyed, as if waiting for David to begin. After a moment, expression now more serious, David did speak, purposefully and slowly.

"I've given this a lot of thought, and I've worked out the logistics. This is feasible. I want us to be married by the time you move to Pittsburgh."

With that, David lowered himself onto his right knee and reached into his jacket with his right hand.

"Oh my _God_ , David, what are you doing?" Kurt's frantic edge remained, though mellowed somewhat.

David looked upward into Kurt's face. His expression was expectant, slightly pleading, but humble. The two were bathed in golden sunlight, caught by David's eyes, bringing to them an intensity, a burning, _afire_.

In David's right hand was a small, black, cube-shaped ring box. David took Kurt's left hand into his and, with his right thumb, flicked the lid of the box open. Inside was a striking ring. The thick band was struck in silvery white gold; the heavy, ornate setting was stepped in an art deco style. At the center was a sizable rectangular-shaped pink diamond flanked symmetrically on both sides with smaller, elongated rectangular black onyx stones. Despite the stunning shock of the pink stone in the center, the design was bold and masculine.

The gray clouds above began to spill sparse but large-sized drops of rain. David and Kurt, both craned their heads for a moment, eyes wide in wonder, the shafts of sun lighting the heavy raindrops like a hail of diamonds from the sky.

Returning his attention to his purpose, David spoke, "Kurt?"

"David, we're getting wet."

"I don't care," David's delivery was emphatic but not harsh. "This is me proposing, Kurt. Accept this ring and marry me. If you do, I promise to do everything I can to make you the second-happiest man in the world."

_"Second-happiest man in the world?"_ Kurt spoke trance-like, so faint as to be almost his mere breath. The rain was beginning to weigh upon Kurt's hair, running a stream of water down his forehead.

David's shorter, darker hair was sticking to his forehead. His eyes did not flicker. "Kurt, if you marry me, _I_ will be the happiest man in the world. There can't be two of those, right?"

The sunlight struck the diamond, mixing its pink with yellow fire.

"Yes, David!" Kurt shouted as if being shaken into consciousness. "I want to be your husband."

David's expression shifted from awed anticipation to awed bliss as he plucked the ring from the box and slid it onto Kurt's left ring-finger.

"It's amazing. I want to kiss you, David." Kurt sounded quietly impatient.

"Wait. This isn't done." David reached into his jacket and produced a second, identical box. "We're both going to be husbands. I want you to propose to me too."

Kurt, taken slightly aback, took the box into his hand and slowly opened it. Inside was a ring, identical in design to the one David had just given to Kurt, although it was larger in size and the stones were reversed: a large black onyx stone in the center between two identical pink diamonds.

Kurt grinned impishly as he shook his head slightly. "Should I get down on one knee?" Kurt asked.

David smiled nervously, eyes trained upon Kurt's. "No, this is fine."

"David, will you marry me?" Kurt spoke quietly, but his tone was decisive and his delivery quick.

David shook his head, his smile becoming jubilant. "Yes, absolutely I will, Kurt."

Kurt took the ring from the holder, took David's left hand onto the palm of his own, and ran the ring onto David's ring-finger.

"Kiss me now, David. Please?"

David stood. The downpour had steadily increased though neither of them had noticed. They took each other into their arms and their lips met. There was the sound of cheers and applause coming from somewhere over the street-side of the terrace. Kurt attempted to look, but David gently held Kurt's cheek in place with his hand. They were thoroughly soaked when their lips finally parted. Rather than turn their attentions to the sound of the continuing ovation, each took in the other's expression: David's was one of exuberant achievement while Kurt's was a stunned elation.

After a moment, Kurt and David both turned to the applauding onlookers across the street. Kurt shook his head, incredulous, while David waved, almost saying a silent thanks.

_"Marcel?"_ Kurt called quietly as he spotted the older gentleman holding his phone at eye-level, having just recorded the romantic transaction. _"Rachel?"_ Kurt's voice was equally confused as she waved and smiled from across the avenue.

"I called 'em from a rest stop about an hour ago," David explained. "Told 'em to assemble some friends and hang out across the street."

"David. Paul. Karofsky. What am I going to do with you?" Kurt's voice sounded almost faraway, dream-stricken.

David reached his arms around Kurt from behind, taking Kurt's hands into his own. "You're going to marry me."

"Uh," Kurt sighed, breath trailing, blissfully defeated, shook his head and began giggling, futile and exhausted, to himself.

"We are both soaked, and it's actually kinda cold to be out in the rain," David spoke quietly at Kurt's ear. "Let's go inside. I have an important phone call to make. And then I'm going to tell you my plan."

"I'll go get us some towels while you make your phone call," Kurt offered, shaking his head, still dizzy from the exchange, pulling the French doors open and letting himself and David inside.

Once indoors, David produced his cell phone as Kurt walked downstairs for towels. David searched his recent call list and dialed his father's phone.

"Hello, David," Paul answered from the phone.

"Hey, Dad."

"How is everything? How's the house coming?"

"House is fine. Everything's great, Dad."

"That's good to hear," Paul volleyed back, sounding like a comment made out of pleasant formality.

"Dad, do you remember, a few years ago, just as I was starting college, you were helping me move into my first apartment in Pittsburgh?"

"Yes, I remember," Paul's voice sounded uncertain.

"Well, specifically, I told you that I was going to ask a big favor of you someday. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, off course. Now I remember that." Paul's voice sounded certain.

"Okay, here it is. Kurt and I are getting married. We've just proposed to each other and accepted. I want you to be my best man."

There was no sound from the other side of the phone.

"Hope you and Mom don't mind coming to New York for that," David added.

More silence.

"Dad?"

Paul's words came slowly but sincerely. "That's mm... _great_. And I'm _happy_. And I'm _honored_. And I'm kinda speechless, David."

"Dad, I'm gettin' _married_. I wanna be married by the time Kurt and I move in together."

Paul's voice betrayed an elated laugh. "David, I'm thrilled, and I'm flattered. Don't take this the wrong way, but you have some friends that you're really close with. Don't you think that maybe one of them would..."

"No, Dad," David stopped Paul's speech strongly but politely. "When I put the words 'best' and 'man' together in a literal definition of those words, two people come to mind: you and Kurt. You're literally the _best men_ I know, the only two people worthy of that title to me. Kurt's unavailable for the job that day, so I gotta look to you to do this favor for me."

Silence passed as Paul's words were slow in coming. "David, yes. Absolutely. When you put it in those words, I can't refuse. Buh-but, it's really more of an honor for _me_ , David."

"Well, it's a _huge_ thing for me, Dad." David paused a moment before asking quietly, "So, you'll be my best man, then?"

"David, of course. I-I'm honored that you'd choose me to stand with you on your wedding day, and I know what this means to you and to Kurt in terms of... _everything_."

"Okay, Dad," David spoke. "Kurt and I have some details to iron-out and some plans to firm-up. I'll let you in on that stuff as soon as plans are more definite. Hopefully, I can get back to you with something later tonight."

"Your mother is going to be thrilled, David," Paul said, a slight quiver in his voice.

"You think so?"

Paul chuckled. "Of course! She loves weddings, and her son is getting married. She will be leveled by this news."

"You want to tell her, or do you think I should?" David offered.

"No, no, you tell her. _Lorraine?_ " Paul's voice trailed as he called for his wife. "David has something he wants to say to you."

"David?" Lorraine's voice sounded through the phone, "How are you, dear?"

"I'm great, Mom," David answered, quiet excitement audible. "Mom, Kurt and I are getting married."

"Oh, David," Lorraine nearly squealed, high-pitched in elation, "That's _wonderful_!"

"It'll probably be in June, in New York, so it'll be the real thing."

David could hear Lorraine pull away from the phone and both of his parents exchanging excited, jubilant words with each other, and he could hear what he took to be the sounds of them kissing each other; David also mused, with a smile, that this would be one of his parents' romantic bottle-of-wine nights.

"Hey, listen," David spoke up and broke his parents' amorous revelry. "I have some stuff I need to talk with Kurt about, but you will be first on my list to call when we get the details worked-out."

"Okay, we'll be waiting to hear from you," Paul spoke through an audibly smiling face as the sound of Lorraine clapping came through faintly in the background noise. "Goodbye, David, and congratulations."

"Thank you. Bye Dad. Bye, Mom."

The moment David ended the call, Kurt approached him quietly from behind, gently placing a towel over David's head, covering his face and blotting the rainwater out of his hair. As Kurt slowly pushed the towel back, revealing David's face, he closed the distance between them, meeting David's lips with his own.

"Your clothes are soaked, David," Kurt stated quietly, having quickly changed out of what he'd been wearing during the downpour and now wearing dryer-warm sweatshirt and sweatpants.

"I have clothes and an overnight bag in my truck," David offered. "Hope you can put me up for tonight and tomorrow night."

"Like I'd let you go _anywhere_ tonight after pulling a stunt like that." Kurt's words sounded threatening though his face was smiling devilishly. "I don't care if all we do is cuddle and look into each other's eyes, you're _mine_ tonight, David Karofsky."

"It was a long drive, but it was so amazingly worth it."

"Go get your overnight bag and get out of these clammy clothes," Kurt suggested.

David snickered and nodded as he and Kurt descended the stairs to the lower level. Kurt had just snatched an umbrella from a holder near the front door when the door burst open and a smiling, squealing Rachel entered with Marcel and several friends in tow. Rachel congratulated Kurt and David with a flurry of hugs and kisses while Marcel uncorked a bottle of champagne. The brief celebration went on for about thirty minutes at which point Rachel and the others left, Rachel promising to not return until around nine o'clock, leaving Kurt and David some much-appreciated time to themselves.

David did, after a celebratory glass of champagne and congratulatory embraces and handshakes, walk to his truck, retrieve his overnight bag, and settle into a fresh white T-shirt and a pair of flannel lounge pants.

In the silence of the quiet house, Kurt reclined into David's arms on the couch in the main room of the second floor, city lights visible distantly through the terrace doors. Kurt softly placed his left hand atop David's, holding both at a distance allowing him to visually take in both rings.

"The rings are incredible, David."

David smiled. "Thank you."

"They must have set you back a lot," Kurt commented.

"I'm not gonna lie. They weren't cheap, but it wouldn't have felt right to me any other way. I'm only gonna do this once so I better do it well. As soon as I saw the design, I knew that was it, and I felt that we both had to kinda, like, symbolically claim each other as belonging to the other."

"And the colors have, like, followed us around."

"Well, actually, I thought I should eventually replace that pink-and-black ring you lost the first night we spent together as boyfriends. You know, the one that broke on the floor of my bedroom?"

Kurt puzzled for a moment, then exhaled loudly, a revelation. "You are _amazing_. You remembered that?"

David chuckled. "Yeah."

Kurt shifted his hand under David's and lifted them both upward, placing a kiss onto David's hand, then pulling it close and pressing it to his heart. "Who did you call?"

"My parents."

"Of course," Kurt's voice was lazy and dreamy.

"My dad's gonna be my best man. I think you should have your dad be your best man."

"David," Kurt's voice betrayed that he was genuinely touched, "That's _lovely_ , and it's something I never would have thought of."

"I explained it to him like this," David recounted. "I said that the two _best men_ in my life are him and you, and you're going to be busy doing something else that day."

"You never fail to surprise me in the most amazing ways, David.," Kurt's words were quiet, nearly whispered. He leaned his head back against David's shoulder. "So, what's the plan?"

David shifted slightly, wanting to address Kurt's face more directly. Kurt accommodated the action, sitting up and allowing David to sit upright also until they were nearly side-by-side but still overlapping somewhat.

"Well, we get my parents and your dad and stepmom up here to New York," David began. "We figure out how we want to do this, who'll officiate the marriage, where we want it to be held, all that, all the documentation taken care of, anything else that immediately concerns the location of the actual wedding. We have it early in the day, in the morning if possible and a small reception immediately after, like an open bar, hors d'oeuvres and cookies and a small wedding cake. Then, you and me and our parents catch an afternoon flight to Lima where our bigger reception is waiting for us, scheduled to start late that afternoon or early in the evening." David was silent, waiting for a reaction. "I know it's a lot of jumping around, but it kinda covers all bases. Anyone who wants to come to New York to see the actual ceremony is welcome to do that. The reception up here will be for your New York friends and anyone else who wants to attend. The majority of our friends are either around Lima or would be more willing to make the trip there for our reception. It's also more convenient for my Pittsburgh friends to travel to Lima than it would be for them to go to New York, but they can do that also if they want to."

"You're right," Kurt spoke. "You did work out the logistics, and this certainly sounds like it covers everything pretty diplomatically." Kurt smiled at David who smiled in return, satisfied with the plan. "You will probably need to come back on some weekday between now and then to take care of some of the legal particulars," Kurt reminded.

"I should be able to work that out like I've worked this out," David responded. "Probably the sooner we take care of that kinda stuff the better. We'll settle on a date and see what we have to work with. I want to keep the actual wedding party small. Less people to move around."

"Actually, when you mentioned your dad as your best man, I just thought of my dad and Carole and your parents as the wedding party," Kurt mentioned. "If we get any of our actual friends involved, someone's bound to get jealous."

"That's true."

"Hey," Kurt interjected suddenly, excitedly. "I'm going to personally design and make all of our outfits: tuxedos for our dads and us and gowns for their wives, the groomsladies."

_"'Groomsladies'?"_ David smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, a straight wedding has groomsmen and bridesmaids." Kurt defended. "There are no brides, so, _groomsladies_."

"Okay," David conceded, "I'll on board with that."

"I've seen some really nice gay-specific wedding bands," Kurt began. "We can look at some online while you're he..."

"Wait a second," David interjected politely. "I kinda want the most generic, traditional, plain wedding band possible. I've seen some of those same-sex wedding rings you're talking about, and, yeah, they're really cool. The thing is, when someone sees the ring I'm wearing, the one that marks me as taken, I don't want any doubt in their mind as to what it means. I want it to scream, 'this guy is married,' in the clearest way possible."

Kurt appeared momentarily disappointed before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Your logic always _kills_ me, David. I don't have a fighting-chance against it."

"Does that mean you're okay with that idea?" David spoke, quietly, almost affectedly apologetic.

" _Yes_ , David, it's actually _ideologically_ beautiful," Kurt sassed back in a whisper. "Even if I can't be fashionably edgy."

David leaned forward, kissing Kurt's cheek, causing Kurt to smile more naturally and disarmed.

"Are we going to write our own vows?" Kurt whispered, optimistically, eager.

"I am looking forward to that, Kurt," David smiled as he pulled Kurt more closely toward him. "Tomorrow, we should probably make a list of every little thing we need to do."

"I'm glad my classes are light this semester," Kurt remarked, "This is going to require every moment I can spare."

"Well, I don't do much in the evenings after work," David contributed. "My weekends are potentially busy with work around the house. I'm sure there's a lot I can accomplish on the weeknights."

"I'll need to get our parents together so I can get their measurements in time to make everybody's outfit," Kurt spoke.

"Well, you can get to Lima, or I can get our parents out to Pittsburgh and you can come there," David suggested. "Maybe make a weekend out of it for all of us. Put everybody to work painting walls or hardwood floors or something." Kurt responded with a chuckle as David reminded, "You can get my measurements right now or any time before I leave."

Kurt grinned. "You can't gain or lose an ounce between now and the wedding, then."

David laughed quietly. "Nothing to worry about. My weight hasn't changed since high school. I think I'm actually in better shape than I was in when I was in high school."

"Me too," Kurt added.

"What?" David questioned jokingly, " _You're_ in better shape than you were in high school or you agree that you think _I'm_ in better shape than I was when I was in high school?"

"Both," Kurt answered decisively. "And it's a good thing. I want us both to be around and together and healthy for a very long time."

"Me too," David replied quietly as he closed his eyes, pointed his head downward, and pulled Kurt close, pressing his cheek against Kurt's. "I'm hungry, though," David grumbled at a low volume. "I haven't eaten since this morning and that was just some crappy sandwich at a rest stop."

Kurt turned to David, kissing his cheek. "Let's get something delivered. In the meantime, I'll call my dad and Carole and tell them what's going on."

David turned to Kurt, smiling. "You think they'll like the news?"

Kurt smiled in kind. "Sure. But even if they don't, it won't change anything."

 

**Friday, June 10, 2016**

The three months which passed between the night of their proposal and weekend of their wedding were a blur: sometimes hectic, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes frustrating, often exhausting, but never dull. Kurt came to Pittsburgh on the weekend after their engagement began to convene with Burt, Carole, Paul, and Lorraine who had all made the trip there from Lima. Kurt needed to collect their measurements for the formalwear he would create for them. They all stayed the weekend at David's current and Kurt's future house; the weekend's remainder was spent on various basic home renovation projects: some painting, some updating of the bathroom fixtures, and installation of hanging overhead lighting to the dining room ceiling. Garry and Jeff were also on-hand to assist with the various projects for a large part of the weekend, and the kitchen proved itself fully-functional as enormous dinners were prepared variously by Carole, Lorraine, and Garry (or some combination of the three). Earlier that week, Paul had David's full-size bed shipped from Lima and delivered to David's new Pittsburgh residence; it was placed in the master bedroom, assembled in time for the weekend and, when combined with the bed in the guest room, provided sleeping facilities for both David's and Kurt's parents' weekend stay. Kurt and David themselves, however, relived earlier times, sleeping snugged together on the couch which formerly occupied David's apartment and presently resided in their living room. Neither David nor Kurt would berate their sleeping accommodations.

The following week saw David making another Friday visit to New York City for the necessary legalities of paperwork and issuance of a marriage license (this, of course, as previously, necessitated David working additional hours in the evening that week, but David took on the extended workdays without complaint, the goal of his work becoming more visible every day). David traveled by air to meet Kurt in New York this time, however, to insure that he would be there in time to fulfill the visit's requirements during the hours during which the public offices were available. The remainder of the weekend, this would be his last trip to New York until the day of the wedding rehearsal, was spent with Kurt, considering the list of necessary things yet to be accomplished before the wedding, and dividing that list into two smaller lists of items to be tasked to each of them. They had already compiled a guest list, but, for a while, names seemed to be added daily. The structure of the invitation necessitated that the invited persons return an RSVP response for both the New York wedding ceremony and short early afternoon reception as well as the evening reception in Lima.

Deciding upon a Lima venue for the reception was simple: a hotel with a banquet-room facility near the airport was perfect. It also allowed them the convenience to reserve a block of rooms for any guests traveling a fair distance to Lima as well as a suite in which Kurt and David could stay overnight themselves before David would drive Kurt and himself to Pittsburgh (It was also planned that, despite both sets of parents living in Lima, that they'd also stay the evening of the wedding at the hotel and have breakfast with the newlyweds the next morning).

Finding an appropriate place for the wedding ceremony and earlier reception in New York proved more problematic for the young couple, that is, until Kurt circulated the information that KayeLiz was designing exclusive formalwear for a same-sex wedding. Suddenly, there were three magazines in a bidding war over exclusive rights to the photos. Kurt's label might not yet have taken-off exactly, but there was a healthy buzz about it in the industry. The previous year's photos in _MenMinutiae_ Magazine did result in a fair-amount of lucrative summer work for Kurt, so much that he'd needed to hire an assistant to help with the fabrication of the clothes; the photo-spread also served to tease the appetites of interested parties, and the relative absence of news about KayeLiz in recent months gave the label an undeniable mystique and aura of exclusivity. Finally, it was the offer made by _MenMinutiae_ Magazine which Kurt finally accepted, though not before he'd negotiated a deal in which the photos would be taken during and immediately following the ceremony on the day of the wedding. Part of that deal also stipulated that _MenMinutiae_ secure and pay for a location which would serve both as a background setting for the photos themselves as well as a functional venue for the wedding ceremony and the short reception which followed. Finally, once the magazine had run and used the photos as they'd wished, the images became the property of KayeLiz. Kurt would receive no actual monetary compensation as part of the exclusive magazine arrangement, but he and David and his designer label would receive wedding photography, a venue for the ceremony and reception, and free publicity and exposure in a widely-circulated magazine: three years of living in New York City had taught Kurt some invaluable lessons in being a shrewd deal-maker.

Early-on, David had suggested that the only wedding gifts he and Kurt would expect from their parents would be for them to cover the expenses of their flights to and from New York: David and Kurt both agreed that the presence of their parents at the expense of traveling inconvenience was a generous gift in itself. Burt was able to best this offer. A former New York representative owed Burt a few favors for voting with him during Burt's term-and-a-half as an Ohio congressman; as fortunes would have it, the former New York representative, a strong supporter of New York's July 2011 marriage equality legislation, lent the use of his private jet to the Hummel-Karofsky wedding party for the weekend of the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth in exchange for invitations to the wedding for himself and his wife (it was basically a photo-op for the former New York representative, but none of those involved would argue with essentially free round-trip air transportation from Lima to New York). With the transportation concerns alleviated, the parents decided to pull their resources and contribute toward the expenses of the receptions themselves.

The physical invitations were minimal in style. Kurt had grown to dislike typical fussy invitations embellished with three-dimensional bows or printed on handmade paper with embedded flower petals. This was simple but striking: a white-on-white embossed art deco design with the text printed in black copperplate gothic lettering. The deco embossing was tastefully accented with a thin line of silver encompassing the design in a symmetrical geometric form. For his part, David was tasked with finalizing the list of people to be invited and sending the actual invitations. He would also track the number of responses to each of the events. Kurt and David had predicted that approximately fifty guests would attend the New York ceremony and reception; the actual number of responses to attend the New York event tallied seventy-two. The reception in Lima was somewhat less predictable. David and Kurt were expecting guests for the Lima event to be between one hundred and two hundred (with a possibility of the number reaching two hundred-fifty). As it happened, the responding number of attendees to the Lima reception totaled one hundred-twenty-two, well within the predicted estimate.

Kurt and David both would have loved an outdoor wedding in a botanical setting, but concerns about the unpredictability of weather and the physical time of the wedding ceremony (ten o'clock in the morning) mixed with the professional fashion photographers' requirements of optimum lighting conditions negated the outdoor possibility. Instead, the magazine proposed re-creating an outdoor setting within a large warehouse which they had used for fashion-shoots in the past. Kurt liked the idea. He liked the idea even more when he saw the space they had to work with. There were still a number of weeks before the actual wedding date, and this allowed the magazine to pull their resources and hire a set-designer to create an outdoor garden setting within the expansive warehouse. Kurt's initial desire of a koi pond with live waterlilies was nixed for budgetary reasons, but the set designer showed Kurt photos of an ancient-looking stone wall backdrop, complete with moss-covered stones and a large archway in the center: this was enough food for Kurt's fertile imagination to embellish without stressing the magazine's photography budget.

For music, Kurt found, through his network of theatrical contacts, a string quartet for the New York reception; where Lima was concerned, it was a given that Kurt would contact Will Schuester to secure the services of McKinley High School's current Glee Club. Kurt forwarded both the string quartet and Mr. Schuester a list of pieces and songs for the individual events.

Finding a suitable officiant for the ceremony was proving to be troublesome for Kurt, however. It seemed that the online profile of every officiant in the New York area seemed to connect the ministers to some religious affiliation, something Kurt wanted to avoid. One late morning, with the wedding a month away, Kurt was frantically surfing on his laptop at the local coffee shop when Marcel walked in and sat near him. It was a matter of ninety seconds before Marcel directed Kurt to Veronika Skepter, an officiant who specialized in Secular Humanist commitment and wedding ceremonies. One five-minute phone conversation later had secured Ms. Skepter's services (Kurt had extended an invitation to the Lima reception to her, but she declined as her schedule allowed her the morning ceremony and early reception, but she had another wedding to officiate in the early evening hours of that day).

Coordinating the Lima reception long-distance was somewhat of a challenge, but Kurt was able to, with the assistance of Carole and Lorraine, order, plan, and place chosen decorations, table centerpieces, and wedding favors for the occasion.

Through all of this planning, Kurt had been boxing his personal belongings and shipping them via mail and parcel-post to his and David's house in Pittsburgh. As the wedding day approached, Kurt's basement-level apartment was stripped bare. The few clothes and belongings which remained would fit into two suitcases and an overnight bag which would travel with him to Lima between the New York reception and the Lima event.

David drove to Lima in the evening hours of Thursday June ninth and stayed the night at his parents' house. Early the next morning, the Karofskys and Burt and Carole Hummel departed for the Lima airport. By noon, they had convened with Kurt for the rehearsal at the warehouse site of the ceremony. The setting was surreal and stunning. Within the expansive, gray interior of the warehouse, there was constructed, at one corner, covering less than one-quarter of the floorspace, what appeared to be a structure made of scaffolding covered in reflective white fabric. One was transported once inside the structure

The reflective panels of fabric gave the illusion of daylight indoors, the stone wall background was completely realistic, within the archway was literally a wall of flowers and ornamental foliage, the cement floor had been covered in turf so realistic that David actually attempted to pull at the blades of plastic grass to satisfy his curiosity as to whether or not they were real. The transformation was so complete that one actually needed to cast their gaze upward to the artificial sky and the gray of the warehouse between the panels of reflective fabric to believe that this created wedding garden was actually an indoor illusion. There were two sections of folding chairs, a center aisle formed between them. Behind the chairs were serving tables and a portable bar; the food and beverages would be delivered early Saturday morning. Balancing the area on the opposite side of the bar was the place where the string quartet would take their places for the service and reception.

The six people, the three couples, walked slowly, exploring the space, mesmerized by its sheer existential improbability. David slowly approached Kurt; they had not seen each other physically in over two months.

"Hey," David spoke quietly, tentatively.

Kurt turned, his smile welcoming upon seeing David. "Hi, David."

David, eyes wide and dancing around the interior space in the extreme quiet, spoke, "This place is amazing."

"They did a nice job," Kurt answered. "This is all the work of the set-designer and the magazine photographers. After our ceremony, they'll open up the bar to the guests, but we'll stay up here getting our pictures taken. They'll do some of that before the ceremony as well. We'll be doing a final fitting right after the rehearsal lunch. You and your mom and dad will be fitted by my assistant."

"Not you?" David asked, surprised.

"No, Carrie will be taking care of you," Kurt answered. "We won't see each other in our wedding attire until the ceremony itself."

At this David smiled. "You know, this is weird. When's the last time we'd been away from each other that we didn't, like, at least kiss each other within, like, two minutes?"

Kurt smiled demurely through his answer. "It's a little strange with our parents here."

"Yeah, I know," David answered. "Not like they're _not_ going to see us kissing each other tomorrow, though."

"True as that is, it still seems a little awkward now," Kurt added. "They'll be _expecting_ it tomorrow."

David nodded and smiled. "I get all of that. Doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you right now."

"Same," Kurt smiled as he held out his hand, offering it to David. "I don't think they'll have a problem with us holding hands, though."

Ms. Skepter, an attractive, wise-looking woman in her mid-fifties, arrived with her assistants well-ahead of her expected one o'clock arrival time, and the formalities of the rehearsal finished within twenty minutes. The group of them dined quickly as Ms. Skepter was tied to other appointments later in the day. By three o'clock, David and his parents were in their hotel room having their final fitting with Kurt's assistant Carrie. Carrie was a thin, raven-haired woman in her forties with a charmingly thick European accent and a disarmingly (sometimes alarmingly) bawdy sense of humor.

Just as the fitting session was ending, Carrie spoke loudly to David, "I weel neet your rheeng."

David's brow creased, confused, silent.

"Your engachment rheeng, I weel neet itt," Carrie tried to be more specific.

"Oh," David suddenly understood, reaching for his left hand with his right, but somewhat hesitant to remove his ring. "My engagement ring, why do you need it?"

"It weel be sohn into your lapel," Carrie explained. "Kurt has deesignt so it weel holt your boutonniere."

"Oh, okay," David replied, nodding somewhat nervously but agreeable, he removed his engagement ring from his left hand and placed it into Carrie's palm.

"It weel bee rheddee in fife minoots," Carrie informed. "Ev'ryting rheddee for tomoorrow. You look beautiful ant hansomm. Ant zeckzee."

"Thank you," David smiled, almost a laugh, shaking his head. "Do you need me to stay, or are you okay locking up the room when you're finished?"

"Noh, you go ahett, I weel lock up," Carrie assured David with a bright smile and she tossed his jacket in her arms.

David joined his parents and they regrouped with Kurt and the other Hummels in the hotel lounge. Paul and Lorraine joined Burt and Carole at a large table while Kurt stood, preventing David from sitting down.

"Where are you going?" David said to Kurt, almost under his breath.

"We're going to get lost for a while," Kurt muttered back to David, "Want some time with you."

Kurt then turned to the table and announced more loudly, "David and I are going to catch a cab to Rachel's so I can collect my suitcases and bring them back here so we're all ready to leave tomorrow."

"Ah," Burt voiced as the others nodded.

"Be careful out there, honey," Carole sounded a gentle warning.

Kurt shot her a sarcastic expression over his shoulder. "I've lived here for three years. I think I can handle myself here. We'll be back to meet you for dinner around six."

David snickered as the two of them made their way out of the lounge, into the hotel lobby, and, eventually, out onto the sidewalk. It took Kurt a few minutes to flag down a cab.

Kurt and David climbed inside the cab, seating themselves typically on both sides of the back seat, Kurt facing inconspicuously out of the window, his eyes squinted looking outward, David's gaze jumping from the outside to the back of the driver's head to the rearview mirror to the space between him and Kurt, a space occupied by their hands, inches apart. David lifted his hand and placed it atop Kurt's. A smile came to Kurt's face though his head did not turn. He did, however, turn his hand under David's, their palms met, their fingers slightly curled. David's eyes narrowed, nearly closed, and he smiled.

"So," Kurt began, "Dad and Carole told me that Finn didn't make it to Lima in time to catch the flight to New York."

David's smile faded slightly. "Yeah, I was kinda bummed. He called his mom from Chicago and said that his flight from there to Lima was delayed. He wanted to see us get married, but he'll be in Lima for the reception tomorrow. He's probably in Lima right now, actually."

"Yeah," Kurt sounded, disappointed, head downward, then faced upward toward David, mustering a small smile. "I am looking forward to seeing all of our old friends in Lima tomorrow."

David nodded, smile returning. "Yeah, me too. I haven't seen Sean in a while, not since before he transferred out to Portland for his last two semesters."

"He's in Portland?"

"Yeah," David remarked. "He likes it there apparently. Met a guy out there, and he's bringing him tomorrow."

"We saw Johnno and Gretchen over the break," Kurt recollected.

"Yeah," David nodded. "Everything goes as planned, we might be going to _their_ wedding this time next year."

"Hey, do you know how Chris Strando has been?"

David chuckled. "Strando's doing okay. He'll be at the reception tomorrow with his girlfriend."

"Ooh, is he still with that Natalie girl?" Kurt asked.

"Oh, no," David explained. "They broke up a long time ago. He's been going out with this girl now for several months, though. Says they're getting along great. He openly admits that Natalie was, like, a first-girlfriend mistake. Neither one of them knew what they wanted, but it shouldn't have been each other."

The cab slowed and stopped in front of Rachel's house. Kurt paid the fare, and he and David exited the cab. The two walked up to the front door. Kurt unlocked the outside door then the inner door to his basement apartment and the two descended the stairs.

"I thought we were just gonna pick up your bags," David questioned, "Why not just have the cab wait for us?"

"Because my story about the luggage was just a ruse to get you away so I could have you to myself for just a little while today," Kurt answered.

David laughed and shook his head as Kurt pulled him close for a quick kiss. Kurt tugged David quickly to the bed where Kurt flopped and David lay beside him, both sitting partially upright, exchanging a flurry of kisses both brief and lengthy, David's hands caressing Kurt's shoulders.

Finally, upon parting, David reclined onto his back, wrapping his arm gently around Kurt's shoulders, as Kurt rested his head upon David's chest and spoke, "I mean I _am_ sleeping here tonight, and this is where the limo is picking me up to take me to the wedding site tomorrow morning."

"Speaking of that," David spoke, "the wedding site looked really incredible."

"It did," Kurt agreed, emphatic. "I know those people do some impressive work, but I was astounded at how good it looked. Some of it really wasn't anything I'd have specifically chosen or asked for, but I have no complaints about anything."

"All of the clothes look fantastic, Kurt," David remarked, sincerely. "My mom's gown looks great. I like how my dad's tux and my tux are different but they're not. It's like they match but not exactly."

Kurt smiled in his answer. "The same is true of my dad's and mine. All four of them have thematic colors, but no two are the same. Same is true of the dress that Carole is wearing. It's similar to your mom's and the same color, but different."

David smiled in return offering, "Carrie's kind-of a trip."

Kurt laughed. "She's great. I couldn't have done the projects last summer without her. For that matter, I couldn't have done the outfits for this wedding without her."

"She said I looked 'zeckzee' in my tux," David snickered.

"You _are_ sexy, David, and I'm entirely sure that you looked amazingly hot in your tux," Kurt hypothesized. "I can't wait to see my handsome, beautiful man in the outfit I designed and made just for him on our wedding day."

"Is that why you had Carrie do the fitting?" David asked. "Is that your contribution to 'wedding tradition', that we don't see each other in our outfits before the actual wedding?"

"Kind-of," Kurt admitted softly. "I mean, we're two men getting married. We can't be completely traditional, but, well, the way you proposed was a pretty traditional thing."

"Up to a point," David reminded.

"Well, we can be as traditional as think we can be," Kurt remarked, "but we're still two men getting married in a country that only allows that in a few isolated places." Kurt paused for a moment before voicing, "We haven't had sex since before the engagement."

"Yeah, it was the Christmas break."

"Is this another traditional thing?" Kurt inquired, smirking.

"I really didn't think of it that way, just that we're always so busy when we were together," David answered. "It's not like we haven't already done that and many times."

"Just seems curious, that's all."

David's face wrinkled and smirked, skeptical. "What? You think it's gonna feel different after tomorrow or something?"

Kurt's face straightened slightly but never lost its smile completely as he rose, addressing David's eyes. "David, I _know_ you. From the first time and every time since, I know it's always meant something to you, to allow someone to get that close to you. So, tomorrow, we're going to be recognized as a married couple, even if it's by something as fragile as a piece of paper and as small a symbol as two rings. It's going to color how you feel about it."

David's expression disarmed and humbled. "You know me so well, Kurt. You tell me things about me that surprise even me."

"I've mentioned that before," Kurt said as he rested his head again onto David's chest. "I hope it's comforting to know that the person who knows you that well is the person that you're marrying."

"It is," David spoke, just above a whisper, as he took Kurt's hand into his, lifted it to his face, and kissed it before moving it downward and resting both their hands over his heart.

"That idea with the engagement rings have something to do with that tradition thing too?" David voiced quietly.

"Mmm-hm," Kurt confirmed. "Actually, an extension of your idea about the basic, simple wedding band. We're going to be greeting and shaking hands with a lot of people tomorrow. I didn't want anything to be distracting from our wedding rings. That's the most important thing. And this way, we'd still be wearing our engagement rings like a piece of jewelry."

"Mmm," David hummed, "Inventive idea."

Kurt giggled. "I remember you saying once, some years ago, that you weren't a jewelry-kinda-guy."

David smirked. "Yeah, I remember that. Mostly because you gave me a look like you knew I was wrong at the time."

"Well, I knew even back then that..."

"Aw, c'mon," David cut Kurt off quietly, "You're not gonna tell me that you knew back then that we'd be together and getting married and exchanging rings someday?"

"No, I couldn't have known that," Kurt furthered. "But I could see that you were someone who was focused on wanting that. The commitment. The way I knew that you'd be devoted to your partner one day. I couldn't know that _we'd_ be together, but I knew that, if you found that person you wanted to be with, it was something that would happen for you."

"You're right. You always nail me. I've wanted this for so long. Even when I was angry and trying to kill that part of me, those terrible years when I was in high school, I just wanted someone, even in an abstract sense, that was gonna get me. Someone I wasn't going to lose."

"That's so long ago, David. You've come so far."

David pulled Kurt closer. "By this time tomorrow, we're going to be married."

"I know," Kurt smiled, settling into David's firmer hold.

"This time tomorrow, we'll be married, probably getting off the plane in Lima, a couple of hours away from seeing all of our friends at the reception."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed, contentedly. "Did you ever get an RSVP from Blaine?"

David's face sobered, his pitch dropped. "No. I never heard back from him."

"Oh, well," Kurt dismissed, raspy.

"It bums me out," David offered. "I was hoping that you two were going to be friends. I was hoping that we'd _all_ be friends. It seemed like things were getting better between the two of you for a while."

Kurt shook his head slightly. "Yeah, and then it stopped, and I stopped hearing from him. Remember what you told me Chris had said about Natalie being a 'first-girlfriend-mistake'? Well, Blaine was my Natalie. We didn't know what we wanted, but it shouldn't have been each other."

"Well, that's not really fair, Kurt," David countered. "He helped you in a lot of the same ways that you helped me."

"That doesn't mean that we should have been together that way," Kurt spoke. "I'd have hoped that he would have helped _anyone_ , not just a potential boyfriend."

"I still wished that it hadn't gone that way."

"Well, I can't lose sleep over it," Kurt spoke as he rose into an upright position then stood off of the bed and walked to the closet, now bare save for one item. "I have something for you, David."

David sat up, curiosity piqued, as Kurt reached into the closet and removed a familiar-but-long forgotten red-and-cream jacket. David's face grimaced slightly.

"Where the hell did you get my old varsity jacket?" David puzzled, "I thought I threw that thing away."

Kurt smiled. "I was helping you clean out your room and pack your things for college all those years ago. You told me to throw it on the trash pile, but I couldn't bring myself to do that, so I saved it for you."

David shook his head, an uneasy expression. "Kurt, that jacket reminds me of when I was the worst person in the world. That's why I told you to throw it away."

_"David,"_ Kurt smiled, voice pleading. "It's a piece of _clothing_. It in itself doesn't make the individual."

David raised a skeptical eyebrow but remained silent.

"Think it'll still fit?" Kurt asked. "Why don't you try it on?"

David rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it'll fit." David stood and took the jacket from Kurt's hands. As he slid his right arm into the sleeve, he noticed that the jacket smelled of cedar and storage. He pulled the other sleeve over his left arm and stood, uncomfortable expression, facing Kurt.

Kurt smiled slightly, shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. "Those things don't look good on anybody."

David's face broke the trace of a smile. "It didn't fit me so well back then. I think it fits even _worse_ now."

"You know what I want you to do now?" Kurt asked.

"No. What?" David's smirk became more pronounced, his voice cocky, slightly arrogant.

"I want you to hug me while you're wearing that thing."

David's smirk shifted to a more genuine smile as he approached Kurt, taking him into his arms. Kurt reacted, unfolding his arms from his chest and reaching over David's shoulders. As Kurt pulled David's head forward, David began to chuckle, a warm, genuine, sublimely happy laugh. Kurt's lips traced multiple kisses on David's forehead before the two of them stood, each holding the other, swaying as if to some inaudible music in Kurt's nearly barren apartment.

 

**Saturday, June 11, 2016**

"Surprised you're not wearing your letterman jacket," Paul ribbed David as they stood inside the warehouse on one side of the temporary wedding structure, just outside the right-side entry to the partitioned area.

"C'mon, Dad," David smirked.

"Well, when you showed up back at the hotel wearing it last night, it surprised all of us," Paul commented.

"It was Kurt's idea," David shook his head, smiling. "He saved it for me all of these years."

Paul approached David, smiling, and patted his shoulder. "You look great, David."

"So do you," David nodded, smiling. "Kurt knows what he's doing."

"Are you nervous?"

David shook his head. "No, I'm really not. I feel really sure about this. Like there's nothing for me to be nervous about. You, Dad?"

Paul shook his head, eyes still trained on David's. "I'm not nervous. I'm happy. I'm emotional right now. I might start crying. I know your mother's going to cry. I know you wanted this, and I wanted this for you."

David nodded, smiling. "And you were there the whole time. You were a constant; when I think about it, you were the only person that was there for me the entire time. That's why no one else could have been my best man."

Paul blinked. He would have probably started crying himself had Lorraine and Carrie not arrived into the small waiting area, chatting and laughing.

"Mom, you look great," David said as he took in his mother's image.

"David, you look so incredibly handsome," Lorraine smiled as she approached him, allowing him to take her into an embrace.

"I must feex yohr boutonniere," Carrie exclaimed as she approached Paul and affixed a deep dusty-pink-colored rose to his lapel.

She then approached David whose boutonniere was more elaborate: a rose-pink bloom at the center surrounded by two layers of black petals and backed with white dots of baby's breath. Carrie slid it into the engagement ring which had been sewn onto the jacket's lapel and fixed it further with a typical corsage pin.

Carrie then busied herself looking over the entirety of David's tuxedo, whisking minute spots of dust from the lapel area where she had fixed the boutonniere and checking his shoulders and back for visible imperfections.

David focused on his parents. Paul and Lorraine were both looking at him proudly. Paul's arm was around Lorraine's shoulder, holding her; Lorraine appeared to be on the edge of crying.

One of the magazine photographers entered the space and quickly posed David, Paul, and Lorraine in various combinations and alone, efficiently snapping many photographs; in less than five minutes, the photographer departed into the greater part of the structure as an usher appeared at the entryway, an assistant to Ms. Skepter. "We're ready to begin," he announced quietly. "Is everything ready?"

David shot his gaze over to Paul and Lorraine who both nodded in David's direction.

"We're ready," David spoke quietly to the usher, punctuating his answer with a nod.

The usher turned outward for a moment, giving a signal. David and his parents could hear the string quartet beginning to play an arrangement of the Beatles' "In My Life". At the start of what would have been the vocal melody, Paul and Lorraine, arms linked, stepped out into the greater part of the structure; it was the signal for Paul to escort Lorraine to their places to the right of the place where the officiant stood.

The beginning of the second verse was David's cue. He stepped out into the main area of the structure and walked toward the center of the created space, approaching from the far right side. To his left, he could see in his periphery that the folding chairs were filled, and the ambiance inside the structure was, indeed, one of convincing outdoor daylight. David kept his focus toward the center of the area as he approached, his gait sure and confident. His parents were standing to the right of Ms. Skepter, and he could see Burt and Carole standing on the other side of her. He slowed and stopped, standing before Lorraine and Paul, and turning to face them. He reached his arms to embrace his mother, and they exchanged a ceremonial kiss. David then embraced his father, and they similarly kissed each other. David swivelled and stepped, taking his place to the right of the wedding minister, his gaze focused to the entryway on the opposite side.

Within seconds, David could see Kurt emerge from the opposite side. His steps were strong and keeping in relative time with the music. As he drew nearer, David saw that Kurt looked perfect: his complexion was aglow, his hair looked fastidiously-styled without appearing fussy, his attire tack-sharp. David watched as Kurt embraced and exchanged kisses, first with Carole, then with Burt, before taking his place on the other side of Ms. Skepter, facing David.

Burt and Kurt both wore black Victorian-inspired tuxedos. Burt's was a relaxed-fitting modern variation with a silver-gray vest and gray-on-gray patterned bowtie. Kurt's was a more fitted, traditionally-Victorian version with a longer jacket, higher-necked subtly-patterned gray vest, and silvery-gray ascot tie. Kurt wore a variation of the boutonniere which David wore: Kurt's was a single black rose surrounded with rose-colored petals, the colors of David's in reverse.

David's and Paul's tuxedos were black, Italian-styled variants. Paul's had a satiny shawl collar creating a black-on-black contrast, a patterned gray vest, and a gray bowtie. David's had a traditional lapel collar, once again a black-on-black contrast, a gray vest, and a gray-on-gray patterned tie in a soft, wide European style.

Carole and Lorraine's dresses were a subdued rose color. Both had smooth-profiled, sophisticated designs. Carole's had a bare-shouldered bodice while Lorraine's had a sleeveless v-neck. Both floor-length gowns had a sash at the waist and a removable shawl jacket. Kurt was familiar enough with both women to know that they would look good in sleeveless designs. The optional jacket, he felt, was an addition which completed the ensemble. Both women also carried modest bouquets of roses, an equal mix of pink and black blooms, strands of crystal and rose glass beads dangling from the arrangements.

"To all present I say, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of David Paul Karofsky and Kurt Elizabeth Hummel in marriage and the commitment they forge today." Veronika Skepter's voice was almost stunning in its clarity and power. She focused her eyes upon David and spoke. "Is there someone who gives this man to this other man in marriage?"

David answered, voice ringing clearly. "Being my own person, I come of my own volition, with the love and approval of my mother and my father, I give myself to his man, Kurt Hummel."

"And is there someone who gives _this_ man in marriage?" Ms. Skepter's voice boomed as she turned to Kurt.

"Likewise, with the loving consent of my father and his wife, I come of my own purpose and give myself to David Karofsky." Kurt's voice, though lighter than David's, held no less conviction.

"David Paul Karofsky," Veronika's voice pealed, "please state your intent and promise."

David, wearing an expression of softened resolve, set his gaze directly at Kurt's eyes. "I, David Karofsky, give myself to you, as your husband, to share my life with you, in love, respect, and devotion; to be your strength when you need to be strong; to listen even when the words are difficult; to have you at your worst so that I may help you to be your best; to have you at your best so that you may know that you honor me with your companionship." David's voice trailed slightly softer. "To be committed to you, and to make the most of our time here together."

Veronika turned to Kurt. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, please state your intent and promise."

Kurt's eyes met David's, a flicker of a smile on both of their faces. "I, Kurt Hummel, give myself to you, as your husband, as your life partner, in love, admiration, and loyalty; to shelter you in times of insecurity; to recognize your wishes and needs; to be grateful for your presence and strength; to acknowledge and temper your hardships and share in your joys; to be proud that you have chosen me to take this place at your side; and to hold in dear reverence your commitment, and to humbly return it in kind."

"Do you, Kurt Hummel, accept David Karofsky as your lawful husband?" Ms. Skepter asked of Kurt.

"I do." Kurt's answer was strong and decisive.

"And do you, David Karosky," Veronika turned to David, "accept Kurt Hummel as your lawful husband?"

"I do." David's answer sounded softer, almost melodic, in contrast to Kurt's.

Veronika turned to Burt, signaling silently. Burt responded by placing a ring into Kurt's palm.

David raised his left hand and Kurt took it into his own as he began to speak. "I, Kurt Hummel, give you, David Karofsky, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment to you." With these words he slid the ring onto David's hand. Kurt faced upward and their eyes met, composed but visibly joyous.

Veronika gave a similar wordless signal to Paul; and he likewise placed a ring into David's hand.

"I, David Karofsky, give you, Kurt Hummel this ring, as I give to you all that I am, and accept from you, all that you are." David ran the ring onto the ring-finger of Kurt's left hand.

Veronika faced upward, into the open space between Kurt and David, and spoke, voice clear and loud, "By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I pronounce you legally married." She faced her head downward toward the couple. "You may kiss." In her booming voice it sounded like a command.

Kurt and David closed the space between them, subtle traces of gratified smiles on their faces, and met in a kiss.

"Family and friends, witnesses, I present to you for the first time, Mr. Kurt Elizabeth Karofsky Hummel and Mr. David Paul Hummel Karofsky." Veronika's voice boomed, the gathering cheered and clapped, and the string quartet began playing an arrangement of Weber's "Invitation to the Dance".

David and Kurt turned, facing the gathering, holding the other's hand. Kurt appeared mannered as always, though smiling subtly; David's face appeared slightly dazed, as if his composure was slipping, though happily. The two proceeded to walk the center aisle between the two sections of seating as people stood and left their seats to make their way toward the center. Burt and Carole followed them directly and Lorraine and Paul traveled behind them.

As Kurt and David approached the rear of the space where they, with their parents, would form a receiving line, they saw the familiar figure of Rachel waiting and waving; another familiar but surprising figure stood by her side. Both Kurt and David, still holding hands, nearly broke into a sprint. Before them was a jubilant Rachel standing next to a dazed-but-grinning Finn Hudson.

"Congratulations!" Rachel nearly squealed as Kurt and David both hugged her before turning their attention to Finn.

"Finn, when did you get here?" Kurt asked, confused, nearly squealing himself, as David waited for an answer, agape.

"I caught an early morning flight and got here just as everything was starting." Finn answered, sounding almost out of breath.

"So you got to see the whole thing?" David asked, still not quite sure of his eyes.

"Yes!" Rachel squeaked. "Just as the quartet started playing, I heard a voice asking if the vacant seat next to me was taken, and it was Finn!"

"Whoa," David smiled and shook his head.

"I'm so happy and proud of you guys, gimme a hug, dammit," Finn almost yelled as he reached his arms around both Kurt and David simultaneously, pulling both toward himself. "I have two brothers now, and I love you both." Finn turned his head first to the left, kissing Kurt's cheek, then to the right, kissing David's. "I had a feeling this was gonna happen someday."

"I remember you tellin' me that one day years ago," David's voice was low, a gravelly whisper, on the verge of happy tears. "How the fuck did you know?"

As Kurt and David greeted, hugged, and shook hands with the wedding guests, the bar and food tables were opened. When the receiving line had exhausted itself, David, Kurt, and their parents returned to the front area and posed for the photographers. That the four photographers went unnoticed as they worked taking pictures throughout the ceremony was a testament to their professionalism.

After the formal photography session was complete, Kurt and David made their way to a table at the rear which held the first wedding cake of the day. David and Kurt cut the cake, a modestly-sized cake of three offset round layers embellished with black-on-white art-deco motifs. Marcel, who had taken on the task of un-official master of ceremonies of the small New York reception, led the attendees in a toast to the new couple. Best men Burt and Paul were glad to have Marcel handle that particular responsibility as they would be leading the corresponding toast at the day's later reception in Lima.

 

* * *

 

The private-jet flight back to Lima was a new experience for all but Burt and Carole who had flown in such private planes before. Finn and Rachel made the flight with them. Finn would be staying in Lima for the better part of the week while Rachel would be flying back to New York the next day.

The plane touched down in Lima over two hours before the seven o'clock starting time of the reception giving the wedding party time to check into their rooms at the airport hotel and rest briefly before the second reception. Kurt and David stopped briefly at their hotel room, primarily to store their luggage before the drive to their new home in Pittsburgh on Monday..

Kurt unlocked the door to their hotel room, pushing it open with his shoulder. He was carrying two suitcases and two overnight bags; David was burdened with two suitcases, an overnight bag, and a garment bag. The juggling act required to carry all of these items onto an elevator and down a hall to the room was exhausting in itself, but, once inside the room and unburdened, neither would complain.

Though they had the option of renting a bridal suite for the occasion, they, instead, chose a standard room with a king-size bed accommodation. Placing their luggage and bags on the far-side of the room, they both sat next to each other on the bed.

David reached his arm around Kurt and they both turned to each other's face.

"We did it," David spoke softly. "We fucking did it. We're married."

Kurt grinned uncontrollably. He leaned and slid his head and back against David's chest. "Whoa," David chuckled. "Don't wanna mess up my tux or your hair. We still have someplace to be in two hours."

Kurt sat upright, settling into a chuckle, and reached for David's left hand with his, admiring the wedding bands as their fingers entwined the other's.

"I don't have words right now," Kurt spoke, sounding exhausted. "I just feel perfect."

David lowered his head to Kurt's level and initiated soft, tactile kisses against Kurt's lips. They would have increased in intensity had the text alert on David's phone not roused them from their collective amorous reverie. David reached into his jacket, produced his phone, and checked the incoming message.

"It's from Gretchen," David informed. "She says she's in the lobby and wants to know if we're around. Do we ignore it?"

Kurt exhaled, sounding stressed. "No, we should see what she wants. After tonight we'll have all the time in the world."

David rolled his eyes in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I agree. Let's go see what's up."

Kurt and David locked their room and rode the elevator to the ground floor. A group of friends was waiting in the lobby.

"Hey," Gretchen ran to David and Kurt as she saw them walk through the elevator doors. "Congratulations! You both look so hot."

"Thank you, and make no mistake, you look hot too," David spoke as Kurt nodded approval.

"Thanks," Gretchen intoned smugly. Gretchen, never seeming to repeat a look, had her hair done in a nineteen-sixties-style flip and was wearing a clingy black-and-white mini-dress with polka-dotted tights and knee-high boots. 

Johnno and several others approached behind Gretchen, all seeming to voice words of congratulation at the same time making specific greetings seem impossible.

"Hey, Johnno," David spoke as Johnno pulled him into a hug.

"So glad to see you, and so happy for you and Kurt," Johnno said as he unlocked from David and hugged Kurt similarly.

"Hey!" The word rang out and held, exaggerated, as Sean approached with another man by his side.

"Hey Sean," David greeted as Kurt nodded the like.

"Hey, guys, meet John," Sean introduced a bespectacled, goateed, shaven-headed man with a slightly thicker-build.

"I gotta say, 'Sean and John,' it's got a ring to it," David commented smiling and shaking their hands.

Kurt smiled and shook their hands as well. "It's not often you see two redheads together. That's... really something."

"Sean's told me so much about the both of you," John spoke, smiling, as he shook both of their hands. "I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Well, we sincerely hope that you have a great time at our reception and that the trip out here was worth it," Kurt spoke, elated.

Finally, Chris Strando approached David and Kurt; his arm was around a smiling, busty, bubbly-looking young lady. "Hey, guys," Chris's smile was uncontainable. "Congratulations. Big congratulations. I am so happy for you two."

"Thank you , Chris," Kurt intoned as Chris threw his arms around David and held him for a moment.

Chris then turned to Kurt and hugged him with a similar vigor before introducing the young lady. "Guys, this is Georgina. Most people call her 'Gina' for short."

"Nice to meet you, Gina," David greeted as he shook her hand.

"This is Dave," Chris motioned toward David, "but I call him Karofsky 'cause we played football together."

Gina giggled like she completely understood Chris's explanation.

"And this is Kurt," Chris gestured toward Kurt as Gina shook his hand. "Kurt is Karofsky's uh, husband, I guess, huh? Damn, that's cool."

"Strando, you are one of the best," David spoke, a laugh filled with the deepest friendship.

"And we will _all_ be doing some shots tonight," Chris spoke to the entire crowd, sounding simultaneously friendly and threatening. "I will be drinking with my friends, and I won't take 'no' for an answer."

"I gotta drive and I'm still not twenty-one." Johnno volunteered.

"Okay, then," Chris rationalized, friendly, "you're excused."

"Where's Howie and his girlfriend?" David asked.

Gretchen laughed so hard she nearly snorted. "What? Chris mentions doing shots and Howie comes to mind immediately?"

David and Kurt both laughed and blushed. "That's totally not what I meant," David said.

"Howie will be around later," Gretchen assured. "Well, we dragged you down here so we could congratulate you before everyone else mobbed you, but there's another reason," Gretchen revealed.

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

"Got something to show you," Gretchen informed. "Gotta go over to the banquet room." The crowd began walking as Gretchen continued to talk. "You know there are security guards at the banquet room? I had to show ID and they checked me against a list."

"That would be my dad's doing," Kurt informed. "Same-sex wedding reception in Ohio: I'm surprised we don't have a police escort."

They approached the banquet room to see a security guard at the door. "I'll need to see your ID before I can let you in," the sentry informed.

"You've already seen our ID," Gretchen informed.

"I'll need to see their ID," he spoke nodding at Kurt and David.

"They're the _grooms_ ," Gretchen stressed causing Johnno and Sean to laugh loudly; Kurt and David snickered to themselves while John smiled with a hint of confusion and Chris and Gina, having found a bench further down the corridor, were seated and making out with each other.

After a moment of attempting to stare-down the guard, Gretchen took Johnno by his hand and pulled him into the banquet hall with her. "Oh, we'll just bring it out to you," she sneered at the guard.

"Hey, just doin' my job," the guard protested.

Johnno and Gretchen walked to the gift table where several gifts had already been placed. They pulled an oblong, wrapped gift approximately two feet by three feet and three inches deep and brought it out to the hallway.

"Wedding gifts don't get opened until the married people take everything home after the reception, but I wanted to be there when you opened this," Gretchen said as she and Johnno leaned the gift against a wall just outside the banquet room.

David and Kurt tore away the giftwrap to reveal a painting beneath, the distinctive scent of fresh oil paint and solvent very apparent, no longer trapped by the paper. It was a double-portrait of Kurt and David. Both were depicted from waist-up against a background which suggested a fantasy city, as if inspired by Fritz Lang's _Metropolis_. Both were represented in three-quarters view with David facing toward the center-right and Kurt facing toward the center-left. Their gaze was cast downward toward their hands which were intertwined, holding three items: a red rose, an abacus, and a pocketwatch. Both of their faces wore subtle, sublime smiles. The artwork was slightly stylized, the composition obviously symbolist in nature, but the likenesses were unmistakable and flattering. The painting itself was encircled in a wide black-and-silver art deco-style frame, the relief work resembling stylized feathers.

David was speechless at first. Kurt merely whispered, just above a breath, "It's _beautiful_ , Gretchen."

David nodded, tilting his head slightly, awed. "It's fantastic, Gretchen. I don't know what to say."

"It's a _wedding gift_ ," Gretchen answered, ever sassy, " _'Thank you'_ is fine."

David and Kurt both snickered nervously. "I wonder if the hotel has a easel we can borrow," David mused. "I would really like people to see this."

"Oh, man, that's great," Chris Strando appeared with Gina, their attention drawn by the conversation.

"That's really beautiful," Gina commented.

"Really, I'd rather you didn't display it here at the reception," Gretchen commented.

"No?" Kurt mumbled while he and David shot questioning expressions at Gretchen.

Gretchen shook her head. "I think it turned out really nicely, but, like, I don't wanna bum anyone out. I mean, someone who bought you guys, like, a handmixer or something. How does that even compete?"

Kurt and David both laughed. "Gretchen, you still have the wickedest mind of anyone I know."

"That's right," Gretchen answered smugly, " and I'm not even gonna smack you around at your own wedding reception."

"Thank you for that," David lifted the painting carefully by it's frame. "We should probably take this up to our room, then, if you don't want anyone to see it. We'll catch you in a few when the actual reception starts."

David and Kurt bade temporary farewell to the gathering as they boarded an elevator, rode it up to their floor, and brought the painting into the security of their hotel room.

"It is really beautiful," Kurt commented, taking in the image of the painting in the subdued light of the room.

"Yeah, it is. We’ll hafta find some perfect place to hang it when we get things finished up at the house." David approached Kurt from behind and wrapped his arms gently around him, taking Kurt's hands into his. Both took in the image of the painting in the soft quiet of the moment.

"Quarter to six," Kurt reminded. "We're supposed to meet our parents in the lounge at six so we can be ready for our 'grand entrance' at seven-ish."

"Seven-ish?" David questioned.

"We have the option of being fashionably late," Kurt countered, twisting his neck to address David, flirty-eyed. "When we're both dressed to kill like we are, you'd better get used to it, my sexy man."

David chuckled and faced away.

"You think I'm kidding?" Kurt playfully threatened.

David closed his eyes and shook his head, grinning. "Hmm-mm. Never would you joke about fashion. I know better."

"Damned right," Kurt whispered before pulling David into a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Kurt and David approached the lounge to find Paul and Burt sitting by themselves at the bar.

"Where are the ladies?" Kurt asked,

"They went in to give a final check to the tables and things in the banquet room before the guests start arriving," Burt said.

"I wonder if they need help," Kurt spoke, "I think I'll go see if they need any assistance."

"You'll just get stopped by that security guard again," David reminded, smirking.

Kurt walked away in the direction of the banquet room, twisting his neck to yell back at David, "I think your mom and Carole will vouch for me."

"Sit down, Dave, have a beer with us," Burt invited, nodding toward and empty barstool.

"Sure," David agreed, shrugging.

"I've gotta go use the restroom," Paul said as he stood, "I'll be back in a minute."

David and Burt both nodded at Paul as David sat next to Burt.

"Been a really perfect day so far," Burt commented before hoisting his beer bottle to his mouth.

David smiled in reaction. "Yeah. I'm just so happy that this happened for Kurt and me. That this _could_ happen. I'm almost dizzy. I wasn't this morning, but as soon as we were actually married, it's like I'm high or something."

The bartender brought a bottle of beer and placed it on the bar before David. He instinctively lifted it and drank.

"This has been a very happy day for me, David," Burt spoke, a disarming smile on his face but his eyes intense as ever. "I'm happy for Kurt, and I'm happy for you. I know that this is something you both wanted."

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel."

"Please, no, you're not calling me Mr. Hummel any longer," Burt scolded, good-naturedly. "Call me 'dad' or... call me 'Burt'."

"I couldn't call you 'Burt' any more than I could call my father 'Paul'."

"Then call me 'dad'," Burt settled.

"Okay, but that's gonna take some getting used to," David commented.

"No problem, take your time," Burt's mood seemed to lighten as David became more comfortable. "You know, Dave, you brought out some really amazing things in Kurt. That thing that you said during the wedding vows today about helping him to be his best? I feel you really did that. I'm proud to have you as a son-in-law."

"Thank you , Miste..., thank you, _Dad_ ," David choked down a laugh. "I might have brought some great things out in Kurt, but, make no mistake, he brought out the absolute best in me. That's why I put that in my vows. I wanted to be as amazing a person to him as he is to me. I feel like he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

Burt's expression sobered, the intensity in his eyes remained. "Stand up, Dave."

Both men stood from their barstools, David appeared slightly apprehensive.

"That thing you just said, about Kurt being the best thing that ever happened to you?" Burt began, reaching outward, and pulling David into an embrace. "Kurt's said that about you too. I'm proud of both of you boys."

 

* * *

 

By seven-thirty, the majority of the tables in the banquet hall had been filled, and the guests were awaiting the announcement and arrival of the wedding party. Kurt, David, and their parents were down the hallway, waiting out the time until they'd make their entrance. David thought the wait to be somewhat silly, but he went along without complaint because Kurt appreciated the drama and he liked watching Kurt savor the moment. They made their way toward the entrance to the room. From the threshold, they could see the tables around the room seating six to eight people, each with a pink-and-black floral centerpiece and black-and-white tablecloth. Kurt and David were quietly picking out relatives and friends when they heard the drummer of the jazz combo pound out the signature beat of their entrance song. A teenage girl, a current member of the McKinley High New Directions began singing, and Will Schuester took to the microphone.

_The night we met I knew I needed you so_  
 _And if I had the chance I'd never let you go_  
 _So won't you say you love me? I'll make you so proud of me  
_ _We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go_

"Hello, guests," Will spoke, "The time is here to welcome the happy couple is here." Will signaled with his eyes to the doorway. "First, the groom's parents, Paul Karofsky and Lorraine Karofsky,"

On their cue, Paul and Lorraine entered the banquet hall, smiling formally, arm-in-arm, to the sounds of the enthusiastic revelers and the glee club which added what sounded like a wall of voices to the chorus of the song.

_So won't you please?_  
 _(Be my, be my baby)_  
 _Be my little baby_  
 _(My one and only baby)_  
 _Say you'll be my darlin'_  
 _(Be my, be my baby)_  
 _Be my baby now_  
 _(My one and only baby)  
_ _Whoa oh oh oh_

"Secondly, the other groom's father and stepmother," Will intoned, "Burt Hummel and Carole Hummel."

More voices entered on the second verse of the song, soaring behind the lead vocal. Burt and Carole entered, much as Paul and Lorraine did, arm-in-arm, also smiling, though somewhat less formally, both nearly laughing as they walked toward their table at the far side of the room, taking their places, standing on the side opposite where Paul and Lorraine stood.

_I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see_  
 _For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three_  
 _Oh, since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you  
_ _You know I will adore you, 'til eternity_

"And now, please stand for the arrival of the happy newlyweds," Will spoke, pausing dramatically before finishing, "Please stand for Kurt Karofsky Hummel and David Hummel Karofsky."

_So won't you please?_  
 _(Be my, be my baby)_  
 _Be my little baby_  
 _(My one and only baby)_  
 _Say you'll be my darlin'_  
 _(Be my, be my baby)_  
 _Be my baby now_  
 _(My one and only baby)  
_ _Whoa oh oh oh_

The attendees of the reception rose from their seats as David and Kurt entered the hall, hand-in-hand. Kurt was smiling dramatically, appearing nearly to be striking poses for cameras while David beamed a genuine smile which added a blush when the guests began to applaud.

Kurt and David took their places at the center of the far table: David next to his father and Kurt next to his. The crowd eventually quieted and the song came to an end, allowing Kurt, David, and the other members of the wedding party to be seated.

The band played instrumental background music while the dinner was served. David and Kurt and the rest of the wedding party made their way around the banquet hall, greeting the guests individually. David had been tasked with arranging at which tables the guests would be seated, and it seemed that there were no complaints. At one large table, Garry and Jeff as well as some of David's other friends from Pittsburgh sat with Rod and Ricky. Much to everyone's amusement, Ricky nearly tackled David with an obnoxious hug when he and Kurt made their way to their table.

Gretchen, Johnno, Sean, John, Chris, Gina, Howie, and his fiancée Renae formed another especially lively table. David was the first in his group of friends from Thurston to be married, though Gretchen, Johnno, and Howie would likely be married to their betrothed within the next year.

Several of Kurt's former fellow glee club members were collected at another table: Rachel, Finn, Santana and Brittany (who remained friends but were no longer an item), Mercedes, and her date, a blonde west-coast surfer who went by the name Bainbridge. Mercedes, never one to compromise her intentions, made both grooms promise to dance with her later in the evening.

Will Schuester and wife Emma, Rupert and wife Katherine, and Mr. and Mrs. Williams occupied a table to themselves also. Mr. Williams spoke with David specifically, observing that the act of being legally married to a same-sex partner was an extension of the award-winning academic work he did as a high school senior. Looking back, it seemed like a whole other life to David at this point.

The wedding cake, a larger-scaled version of the art deco-styled cake at their earlier reception was cut without incident, and David and Kurt returned to their table, seating themselves between their parents as they had earlier. Glasses of champagne had been poured for the guests; Paul and Burt both stood, glasses in hand, and began to speak.

"Pick up your champagne glasses if you're legal," Burt began. "If you're not get something to drink; it doesn't matter what it is. This is important."

"We came here tonight to celebrate the love and commitment of these two men," Paul began. "It's something I wanted to see happen for my son, his marrying the person that he wanted to share his life with. I didn't know if I'd ever get to see that happen, but I saw it today."

"These are two very brave young men sitting with me tonight," Burt continued. "It's not because they're two men who loved each other enough to make their commitment legal. That was relatively easy. I saw both of these men struggle in the face of adversity. My son has taught me more just by being himself than I would have ever learned without having him in my life."

Paul began again. "Like Burt, I have learned a great deal from my son, for that I am grateful for having him in my life. His mother feels the same way. My wife and I are so incredibly proud of our son in that he's accomplished so much in his short life so far. My son is a hero to me."

"And _my_ son is a hero to _me_ ," Burt added.

"And yet my son honors me by calling me his _best man_."

"And mine did the same."

Paul's gaze moved from the guests to his son, sitting next to the place where he stood. "When the best man in my life asked me to me the best man at his wedding, I was honored, and I was touched."

"When the best man in my life asked _me_ to be the best man at this wedding, I was just blown away," Burt addressed the two young men seated near him. "The most important person in my life asked me to be the most important person at the most important event of his life. Well, other than the guy he was marrying, that is."

Kurt and David, still holding hands, still smiling with heads bowed and faces flushed, each feeling on the edge of giddiness, nodded patiently though they appeared as though they might burst at any moment.

Paul and Burt glanced at each other and smiled slightly before Paul spoke. "I think it's killing these guys, so let's not wait any longer. Let's proudly raise our glasses and toast this incredible couple."

With that the room filled with the noise of clinking glasses, approving yells, and applause. David and Kurt stood and drank from their glasses, arms locked.

Another round of champagne followed for David and Kurt before the lights dimmed and they stood facing each other in the center of the dancefloor, a single spotlight on their two figures. The arrangement of the song which they selected as their first dance was performed by the current New Directions with no backing instrumentation other than a drummer: all of the original song's instruments were replaced by the trained voices of the Glee Club.

First were the voices replicating the piano part of the song, then wordless, layered vocals creating more depth, then the quiet, whispered quality of the lead vocals.

David and Kurt both knew they were in a room filled with their friends and family members, but it felt as singular and perfect as the time four years ago when they, for the first time, clasped hands, face-to-face, when Kurt agreed to David's request that Kurt teach him to dance. In the light of the single spotlight on the dancefloor, they and the music were all that existed. David's face was calm with a hinted smile, eyes catching fire in the light; Kurt's fair, smooth complexion played statuesque in the white light of the spot, the shifting blue and green of his eyes moving as he and David traveled the hardwood. David's lips parted, mouthing the words so subtly that only Kurt could detect the movement.

 

_I've found a way to make you_  
 _I've found a way  
_ _A way to make you smile_

_I read bad poetry_  
 _Into your machine_  
 _I save your messages_  
 _Just to hear your voice._  
 _You always listen carefully_  
 _To awkward rhymes._  
 _You always say your name._  
 _Like I wouldn't know it's you  
_ _At your most beautiful._

_I've found a way to make you_  
 _I've found a way  
_ _A way to make you smile_

_At my most beautiful_  
 _I count your eyelashes secretly._  
 _With every one, whisper I love you._  
 _I let you sleep._  
 _I know you're closed eye watching me,_  
 _Listening.  
_ _I thought I saw a smile._

_I've found a way to make you_  
 _I've found a way  
_ _A way to make you smile_

 

**Monday June 13, 2016**

"This is it," David spoke as they stood on their porch before the double doors. David had placed the two suitcases and a large gym bag which he'd been carrying onto the porch floor; he was rolling his keychain in his hand, searching for the correct keys. There were two locks on the double-doors and a conventional lock and deadbolt on the interior door. Kurt was weighted down with two suitcases and two overnight bags slung across his shoulders. He had an impatient expression growing on his face.

David unlocked the double doors and the interior door. He had left the double-doors open, but had yet to open the interior door. He looked at Kurt.

"My hands are full," Kurt commented, trying to sound patient, "Aren't you going to open the door?"

"Put down your bags, Kurt."

"David, I don't want to put them down if I'm going to need to pick them up again."

"Put down your bags, Kurt," David repeated calmly, a humbled, shy expression on his face.

"Why do you want me to put down the bags?" Kurt's impatience was beginning to show.

"Just, please, put down the bags," David's face began to betray a smile with a hint of cockiness.

Kurt rolled his eyes, bent slightly at the knees, opened his hands, and lowered the suitcases onto the floor of the porch. He then lifted the straps of the two overnight bags from his shoulder and held them outward, allowing them to drop to the floor gently. "Okay, David, the bags are down," Kurt spoke quietly, "Now _why_?"

David leaned forward toward Kurt, eyes pointed toward the floor but unfocused, and whispered, "I want to carry you over the threshold."

About ten seconds passed while both stood deadly still and silent on the porch in the late afternoon before Kurt's face succumbed to a slowly-growing smile. Kurt wanted to be cranky and impatient, but his baser moods were no match for David's optimistic gallantry.

When Kurt raised his hand to cover his increasingly smiling face in a partial facepalm, David knew that he had won. He extended his left arm, and Kurt leaned into it, reaching his arm over David's shoulder in the same motion, gripping lightly to David’s back. David slid his right arm behind Kurt's thighs, and Kurt jumped as if on cue. The lift seemed effortless; and David carried Kurt through the double doors, twisted the knob on the inner door, opening it, and carried Kurt into the foyer of their new home.

Once inside, Kurt lifted his other arm around David's shoulders as well and pulled David into a kiss. After a moment, David gently dropped Kurt to a standing position as he they both walked out to the porch to collect the luggage they'd left there.

They made several additional trips to their cars. Kurt had driven his Navigator from Lima to Pittsburgh, following David's truck, and the majority of their wedding gifts, many still unopened, were transported via Kurt's car.

After moving luggage, boxes, and wedding gifts from vehicle to the floor of the great-room, Kurt and David found themselves sitting close to each other on the couch, each sipping from a glass of iced tea, surrounded by a miniature landscape of boxes, packages, luggage, and bags.

"Did I tell you that we got a card from Sam last week?" David asked.

"Yes, you did," Kurt answered. "I knew he couldn't make our wedding. I had talked to him about a month ago."

"He sent the RSVP back saying he wouldn't come," David mentioned. "His card is over on the dining room table if you want to see it. Nice guy, that Sam is."

Kurt smiled and nodded.

"Oh, that reminds me," David stood and placed his glass on the coffee-table, "I'm gonna go grab the mail."

David walked through front doors to the outside and reached into the mailbox which was fixed to the wall. The contents was a large handful of things which he brought back inside, closing the doors behind him.

"Lotsa junk mail," David rifled through a disheveled mass of sale circulars and advertisements, discarding them. There were a handful of envelopes, mostly bills, but one curious one, the size and shape of a greeting card.

"Looks like we got another card," David mentioned as he approached the couch. "It's got one of those melted wax seals on the back with the initial 'S'."

Kurt faced upward at the curious item, the red blob of wax visible from his vantage point.

"It's addressed to both of us," David mentioned, his face visibly puzzled. "The return address says 'Smythe'. Do you know who that is?"

Kurt's expression was vague for a moment as he looked into the airspace before him, then his head nodded slightly. "Yeah. Do you remember that guy Sebastian?"

David shook his head, facial expression betraying no memory.

"Okay," Kurt spoke, "you remember that PFLAG meeting you spoke at, there was that tall, thin kid with the shark-fin, light brown hair who you kind-of went-off at?"

"Oh, _yeah,_ " David's face smiled as he recalled the event and the person. "Is that who this's from?" David asked as he passed the envelope to Kurt.

"Only one way to find out," Kurt spoke as he ran his finger beneath the flap of the envelope, breaking the seal.

There was a card inside with an image of the silhouettes of the profiles of two men facing each other as if about to kiss and a deep red rose in the foreground.

"Gay-specific wedding card," David commented, observing the image, impressed.

Kurt opened the card, and a folded piece of sheer vellum slid out. Kurt caught it and unfolded it to reveal a brief, handwritten letter.

"His handwriting is almost as nice as yours is, Kurt," David commented.

"Not even close," Kurt grumbled with a smirk as he held out the paper for both of them to read.

 

_Dear Kurt and David,_

_I'd like to congratulate the both of you for your wedding. Blaine told me about it, and I thought it would be appropriate to send you a card. I'm wishing for you a lifetime of happiness together._

_I travel a great deal for work, and I'm often in your area if you'd ever like to get together. My contact information is at the end of this letter, and I can guarantee a more pleasant experience than any of the times we've met in the past._

_Once again, I wish you congratulations and much happiness._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Sebastian Smythe_

 

"That's just weird," Kurt commented as he refolded the letter and slid it, with the card, back into the envelope, his tone more bafflement than distaste.

"Eh," David shrugged, "Maybe he's actually a good guy now." David leaned back into the couch, taking Kurt into his arms. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to shoot him an email and have him over for dinner next time he's around the area like he said."

"I guess that'd be okay," Kurt said quietly. "When do you go back to work?" Kurt asked.

"I gotta be back at work Thursday morning," David answered, "but I'm on call until then, so we could be getting phone calls from the office at any time."

"No problem," Kurt answered. "I can live with that."

David reclined back further onto the couch, taking Kurt more comfortably into his arms, holding him closer. "The real honeymoon will hafta wait until next year."

Kurt shook his head. "That's not a problem. I have everything I could want right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced music:
> 
> "In My Life" by the Beatles  
> "Invitation to the Dance" by Carl Maria von Weber  
> "Be My Baby" by the Ronettes  
> "At My Most Beautiful" by REM (yes, again)
> 
> Referenced film: Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927)


End file.
